


The End of All Things

by wrackwonder



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrackwonder/pseuds/wrackwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fight is over and Laura Hollis just wants to go home. (post-Episode 30, finale speculation)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was over. At least, Laura thought it was over. She was having a difficult time remembering what it was, or had been – with all the blood and ash in the air, her memory was foggy. Standing on the lip of the crater, she had no recollection of how she had found her way out of the darkness – the chamber beneath, the screams, the crows. There had been a great battle. There had been heavy loses. And then there was nothing.

Breathing in a shuddery breath, Laura tried to put the pieces together, to gather the fragments of memory and noise and turn them into something cohesive. That’s how Laura liked her stories, all the parts in order, and the people in their places. But nothing was in order. And the people…

Danny was dead.

LaFontaine was dead.

Kirsch was dead.

Perry, or whatever was left of Perry, was in a coma. Her eyes had rolled back as Maman released her. Yes, her eyes had rolled back, Laura remembered the bloody tears, the silent scream from that open mouth. That she remembered. JP had carried the broken body away and Laura briefly considered trying to find him, but it was hard to think. Her hand hurt so badly. And every time she coughed, blood filled her mouth. Which was probably bad. Really, really bad.

Instead she wandered through the rubble of Silas, the throb in her right hand making her dizzy. It was heavy, so, so heavy. And all she could think about was the quilt on her bed at home, the purple and yellow quilt that her grandmother gave her, that her mother used to pull up to her chin every night before whispering, “ _don’t let the bed bugs bite_.”

She laughed, blood bubbling from her nose at the sound. “Mom,” she rasped, legs shaking from the effort of moving. “Mom, they bit.”

There had been the apples. And Vordenberg. The apples – Laura could see Carmilla’s face, see the anger and the sorrow all there as Vordenberg held the green fruit in his hands.

“You do not think I would risk the mountain for something so insignificant as a balanced diet, _Countess_?” he had boasted, cackling and Danny had looked guilty, so guilty and Laura…her stomach hurt. She wanted her blanket. Her hand was on fire. Nothing made sense. So many words. So much…

Carmilla had leaped forward then, her teeth finding purchase in Vordenberg’s throat, the fangs extending into soft, withered flesh, mangling delicate skin and tissue as if they were paper in the hands of a child. The Baron fell, eyes wide in horror and Carmilla loomed over him, even as he tried in vain to clutch the gaping wound in his neck.

What had she said then? As she leaned over, one hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling the life saving palm from the gushing mess. What had she said?

“Did that feel good?”

Why did she say…

What had Mattie said? _Necrophiliac_. Why? What did…

Laura paused feeling her chest tighten, feeling the blood in her mouth bubble, feeling like her hand might…her hand…

_Did that feel good?_

Carmilla had reached her hand into the wound, pushing upwards, until the Baron’s eyes bulged, and then with a twist of her wrist and a swift tug _down_ , the vampire pulled the same hand away, destroying cartilage and bone in her path.

_Was that his? Was she holding his? Was it supposed to look like that? I don’t want to see? Don’t want to see. Don’t want…_

The vampire had torn it to pieces, the pink mass left in her hands. To shreds on the chamber ground. And then her eyes had found Laura’s…

And then Perry…

“The apples…” Laura whispered, the apples had made…like _The Wizard of Oz_ , like Dorothy, the poppies made her sleepy.

“The apples made me sleepy, Carm” she hiccupped, dragging her feet forward until she found herself outside the familiar grand mansion that had been her home since Christmas. It felt inevitable that she come back here. Even as she struggled with the stairs, even as the weight of her right hand threatened to push her into unconsciousness, Laura wanted to be inside, wanted to crawl into the red walls, and just sleep. Like Dorothy’s poppies.

Danny had lifted the sword. Danny had found the Blade in the pit and she had lifted the sword. And then she had exploded; skin burned to ashes, bone turned to dust, dust falling like snow into Laura’s hair and eyes and nose and mouth.

She giggled again. What did her mom used to sing to her? _I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair, I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair, I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair, and send him on his way_.

As she pushed through the grand doorway and into a familiar foyer, Laura hummed to herself, dragging her right hand behind her.

“ _I’m gonna wash that girl right out of my hair, I’m gonna wash that girl right out of my hair, I’m gonna wash that girl right of my hair, and send her on her way_.”

The familiar red walls were untouched, as was most of the house. How was it possible when Silas was in ruins that this place – this place of so much darkness – had survived? Laura coughed a bloody cough again, trying to hold back the tears that threatened. _I’m scared. I’m scared. I want to go home._

She allowed herself to collapse on the floor, unable to make it to the couch or the chair. The floor, the floor where Carmilla and Mattie and JP had lived. The floor, where Laura had slept, hand pressed to the well-worn wood, trying in vain to feel something from the vampire beneath her. It felt good against her aching bones, it felt solid. And for the first time in hours, maybe days, Laura allowed herself to exhale. To close her eyes. To open them again.

What she found was Carmilla sitting across from her, back wedged against their chaise lounge, eyes hollow and haunted. Of course Carmilla was here. She was always here, whether Laura wanted her or not. The vampire showed no signs of recognition although judging from her stillness, by the way her knees were folded beneath her chin, the fish blood was no longer in her system. Her fingertips were red, her arms streaked in gore, and Laura looked away, finding her own bloody knees suddenly interesting.

She looked to her right, to her arm, and finally opened her fist, letting the sword drop to the ground. Her hand was a blackened husk. As she turned her palm, she could see the bone and ligaments and muscle exposed and vaguely she knew she should go to the hospital. Or a surgeon. LaF would have known what to do. LaF probably knew how to perform an amputation and Laura knew, this hand, this decomposing thing attached to her scorched wrist, this hand could not be saved.

But Danny had grabbed the sword. And Danny had exploded. And Danny was in Laura’s hair and in her eyes and in her nose. And then Laura had reached for the sword and Carmilla had screamed. The same sound that had pierced the moonlit sky every night after Mattie’s death. The same animal shriek. But the shriek this time sounded like Laura’s name.

It was too bad, she thought, looking down at the ruined limb. She had liked that hand. That right hand. She could see her fingers against Carmilla’s cheek, tracing that high cheekbone, tracing that eyebrow, tracing, tracing, tracing, as Carmilla leaned into her palm. She could feel Carmilla come undone around those fingers, the body beneath her shuddering, reaching for her, grasping blindly to bring her closer and closer.

But now she couldn’t move those fingers. And Carmilla’s cheekbones looked so gaunt. And LaF could have cut off her hand, but LaF was dead.

“Hey,” Laura whispered softly, tearing her Danny-filled eyes away from the devastation of her body. The vampire made no move, only sat, curled into herself, on the very spot where she had lovingly lowered Mattie’s corpse.

“Carm…I didn’t…the apples…” Laura spoke again, coughing, licking the blood from her lips.

Carmilla’s eyes flashed, but she did not raise her head from her knees.

“I wouldn’t have…”

“I know.” Her voice was so rough, she had been screaming for days, and Laura wanted to crawl forward and press her lips to the hollow of her throat, to take away the broken rasp.

“The apples…”

“I know.”

“I am so sorry, Carmilla. So sorry.”

The tears came then. Laura couldn’t stop them. And this time, Carmilla did move. She raised her head and reached up, brushing that impossibly messy hair from her eyes. For a moment she considered Laura, eyes watching her tears, her bloody knees, the golden blade at her side. And then she nodded, a sad smile appearing on her face.

“I know, Cupcake.”

“Carm…”

And then Carmilla was kneeling before her, forehead pressed against her shoulder, impossibly still. Laura tilted her own head, burying her face in that wild hair, pushing her nose into Carmilla’s neck, letting herself relearn the coolness of her skin. She swung her good arm around the vampire’s back, tangling her fist in a handful of tattered black cloth near a sharp shoulder blade, and just breathed. Soon, Carmilla joined her, taking breaths she did not need, but seemed to disparately want.

“I didn’t know,” Laura stuttered into the sanctuary of Carmilla’s throat. “Carm, I didn’t know. I would have never…but I did…and Mattie, I did that, I did.”

She sniffled pitifully, hiding her face in Carmilla’s hair, trying to ignore the dull throb in her right wrist. For her part, Carmilla nodded so gently, before releasing a tired sigh.

“I know, Laura.”

At the sound of her name from Carmilla’s lips, Laura inched impossibly closer to the woman huddled into her own body. They stayed like that for a time, crouched together on the stained wood floor, silent in the now empty house. They could not offer each other forgiveness – neither had asked, neither could possibly give. But Laura’s world had turned grey and the only thing that made sense anymore, the only thing that she could bear to look at, was the woman pressed into her shoulder.

It may have been only moments, or hours, Laura couldn’t be sure, but eventually, she pulled away, sniffling pitifully. _I want my blanket. I’m scared. I want to go home_.

“Carm?”

Carmilla leaned back, finally looking at Laura with a questioning gaze.

“Carm, Danny is in my eyes.”

The vampire stood abruptly and turned her back, leaving Laura sprawled on the ground, missing the comforting weight of her presence. And then Carmilla clenched her fist, lowered her head, and turned to face Laura again. With only the hint of a nod, Carmilla walked away, into the bedroom – their bedroom – maman’s bedroom – and seconds later Laura heard the shower come on.

She chanced a peak at her ruined hand, wondering briefly why the fiery pain had turned into a dull throb. Instead of the blackened ruin she expected, she found angry red, swollen fingers, the shattered palm covered in the thinnest layer of new, pink skin. Her pinkie twitched. She did not know what it meant. Only that LaF could probably skip the amputation now.

LaF whose ears had started bleeding.

LaF whose eyes had started bleeding.

LaF who opened their mouth to scream and instead spewed ashes.

Laura coughed. She did not taste blood. This time.

~*~

Carmilla was taking off her clothes and Laura just stood, silent, watching her ex-girlfriend toss the ruined black cloth onto the cool marble floor. Maman had spared no expense with her quarters, and the bathroom had every modern convenience: a claw foot tub, a bidet that had caused Laura to giggle and Carm to groan the first time she saw it, and a shower with enough faucets and taps to inspire Laura to call it the TARDIS every time she had to use it. Now it seemed so inviting, the glass doors steamed with fog, but it also felt so far away. And Carmilla was naked. And Laura was not.

Carmilla’s arms were stained a dull red, but the rest of her was pale, so exquisitely pale, and without thinking it through, Laura reached out her left hand, letting her fingers gently graze the silvery scars beneath Carmilla’s breast, dotting her rib cage on the left side. She could remember resting her head between those breasts, darting her tongue against one of the scars, faded and old, the only sign left on her body that three-hundred years ago, Mircalla Von Karnstein had been alive and had died, her body the repository for blow after blow from a nobleman’s knife. Laura wanted to taste the scars again, she wanted Carmilla’s pain in her mouth, all of her pain, but Carmilla reached up and gently pushed Laura’s hand away.

Laura’s right thumb twitched. She could feel it again. That was new.

And then Carmilla was undressing her. She raised her left arm, the right still too heavy to move very much, and Carmilla was tossing aside her sweater and unbuttoning her shirt and unclasping her bra. There were none of the soft touches, the sneaky pinches to her hips, that mouth closing around a hard nipple. And Laura ached for them, needed them, wished that she could go back and change everything, change anything, just to feel Carmilla once more. _Touch me, please. Please, touch me. I think I died. I think I’m dead just like you_.

Instead, Carmilla seemed almost mechanical, reaching for Laura’s belt, untying her shoes, steadying her as she stepped out of her pants and underwear. The floor was dusty, tiny specks of ash seemed to fall with each garment dropped on the floor.

“Danny is in my hair,” Laura said, and Carmilla grimaced and remained silent. The vampire turned to the shower and stepped in, leaving Laura naked and alone in the cool bathroom. She looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes, her bloodstained toes, her bloodstained everything. That’s what happens when your friend disintegrates before your very eyes. That’s what happens when you step in the puddle that was Wilson Kirsch. That’s what happens when skin burns and organs liquefy and you’re only wearing canvas sneakers that Carmilla stole for you and jokingly put on your feet and sweetly called you Cinderella and waltzed you around the bedroom, and secretly sang “so this is love, so this is love, so this is what makes life divine,” and then made you swear on the soul of Lois Lane that you would not speak a word of it to anyone or else. This is what happens.

Her right hand had fingernails again. The swollen gushing stubs were beginning to take shape once more, and the nails that had been torn off by the fiery blade had returned, whole, gleaming against still-swollen, mottled flesh. This time, when Laura tried to move her fingers, they all twitched.

Carmilla’s back was to her once she finally climbed into the shower. She knew not to reach out and touch the pale skin, but she wanted to more than she had ever wanted anything before. Instead, Laura reached for the shampoo and awkwardly started washing her hair with one hand. Danny was falling down the drain. Danny was dripping off the tip of her nose. Danny was gone.

Without warning, Carmilla turned around and took the shampoo from Laura’s hand. They both stood quietly, watching each other, washing the death from their hair. Laura tried not to remember the last time she and Carmilla had shared this space. She tried not to think of those fangs, the fangs that had popped and made her stomach bottom out. The fangs that had made her so wet, so wet that Carmilla had grinned, eyes impossibly dark, as she _smelled_ what those fangs had done to Laura. She tried not to remember the feel of Carmilla’s tongue between her legs, those fangs so gently grazing her thighs. She tried…

And maybe Carmilla was trying too because she could not look at Laura. Her eyes remained closed, brow furrowed, a frown permanently on her face as they wordlessly exchanged the soap and did not acknowledge what they both knew: no amount of soap would ever make them clean. They would never be clean again.

When the soap was set aside, when Danny had disappeared down the drain, they stood, facing each other, trying not to remember (there would be no forgetting).

“Carm…” Laura whispered almost to herself, testing out the shape of that name with her tongue. It still fit. It still felt good. And then Carmilla stepped forward into the spray of the shower and her arms were wrapped around Laura’s back and her face was pressed into Laura’s neck and her shoulders started shaking and…

“Carm…” Laura said again, her own arms curving around the weeping creature. Carmilla’s fingers were sharp against her back and she desperately hoped they’d leave a mark, little crescent-moon Carmilla’s. The vampire sobbed incoherently, the sound muffled by the water and Laura’s throat, but there was one word that came through loud and clear, one word that made Laura want to both run away and fold Carmilla against her, tuck her in as close as she could, and never release her.

“ _Mattie, Mattie, Mattie, Mattie…_ ”

As Laura rubbed the heaving back with her left hand, she raised her right and stared at it with mild interest. The red skin was now pink, the nails glistened, the palm – once torn open, was covered, she could no longer see the pulpy remains of bone and tendons. Gently lowering the still throbbing fingers against Carmilla’s hair, she curled them slightly, cradling the back of Carmilla’s skull in her once-shattered hand. She did not whisper assurances. She did not promise a better tomorrow. She just held her against her body and hoped it would be enough for this moment. Because that is all she had.

~*~

Carmilla dressed in a loose t-shirt and a pair of panties. Laura watched her cross the room, towel wrapped haphazardly around her damp hair. And then she climbed into the big, fluffy white bed – on the right side, like always – and turned to face the empty space beside her. Laura pulled on a pair of her flannel PJs and a tank top she had left on the floor, and she slid into the left side of the bed, lying on her back and looking up at the ceiling. It felt impossible that the two of them were here, in this bed, in this place, when they were surrounded by corpses. There were bodies in the ground and under the ground and in the walls and down the drain. But here they were. Just the two of them. In their bed. Not Maman’s bed, their bed. And Laura wasn't sure what to think or how to feel. All she knew is that she was supposed to die as soon as the blade made contact with her hand. But she didn’t. And now she feels strong. Stronger than she should.

Carmilla faced her, she felt her gaze, eyes red-rimmed from crying, but she did not reach out for her. There would be no cuddling, Laura would not curve her body around Carmilla’s, reaching beneath her shirt to playfully cup a small breast while Carmilla chides her and then whispers “don’t let go” into the darkness. Laura lay still on her back. Carmilla lay still on her side. And they waited, neither knowing what to do.

Until Carmilla spoke, her voice painfully hoarse from tears and days of screaming.

“After you die I shall be alone, truly alone, until the stars fall from the sky and the sun burns this world to ashes.”

Laura felt a hand find her own under the blanket, but she did not turn to face Carmilla, even as she squeezed back against the cool palm resting in her own.

“I should have been a pair of ragged claws, scuttling across the floors of silent seas,” Carmilla whispered across the space between them. And then the hand in Laura’s went slack and the vampire fell asleep for the first time since Mattie’s heart shattered beneath Danny’s heel.

Laura raised her right hand and looked at it, wondering how it was possible for something once rotten to turn pink, and new, and healthy once again. She turned it around, checking her palm, her knuckles, her nails, and there was no sign that the Blade of Hastur scorched it beyond recognition. She had seen it with her own eyes – how the skin had burned, how it had fallen off in flakes, how the bones turned to powder, how the nails had cracked and shattered, how the tendons had snapped. And now, it was her hand. Back to normal. As if nothing had happened. As if…

 _I shall be alone, truly alone, until the stars fall from the sky and the sun burns this world to ashes_.

And Laura knew in that moment, as her blood ran cold, as her heart stuttered too quickly against her ribcage, she knew that Carmilla would never be alone. Not even when the stars fell. Not even when the sun burned.

Carmilla would never be alone because Laura would be there. At her side.

Where she was always meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my pals in the Duct Tape squad for their encouragement. 
> 
> Song lyrics lovingly quoted from Disney's Cinderella and South Pacific.  
> Fancy poetry about seas and claws from T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" 
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr: @wrackwonder


	2. Chapter 2

For two days Carmilla slept and for two days, Laura watched her. She wished desperately that Carmilla had a heartbeat, especially in the dark when she couldn’t see anything or do anything but think. Think about the blood and the ooze and her hand. Think about the woman in the bed next to her who was _too_ still. It set Laura’s teeth on edge and she wanted to shake the vampire, beg her to breathe, breathe for _her_. Show some signs of life. Anything to let Laura know that she was alive and with her and _there_.

 

Which made Laura giggle hysterically in the dark because Carmilla was dead. And LaF was dead. And Kirsch. And Danny. And Mattie. When Laura closed her eyes, she saw bone erupt into flame and screaming tongues melt into embers. So she did not close her eyes. Instead, she snuck her hand across the space between her and the sleeping vampire and curled one finger into the curve of Carmilla’s elbow where the faintest line upon the skin revealed that once upon a time, in a far away place, Carmilla had been a chubby, tiny thing with dark eyes and dark curls and a dark little frown on her pale little face.

 

Laura liked to imagine her that way, small and serious and those eyes always watching, always waiting, always wanting. Except, _Carmilla_ had never been a child. _Mircalla_ had been the child and Laura wasn’t sure who Mircalla was. Or if Mircalla _was_ Carmilla. And if Mircalla was Carmilla was Mircalla, then who was the person in the bed next to her, whose skin felt so soft and cool as she held on in the gathering dark? “Calla” did not fit in her mouth, not like “Carm.” But maybe she would have to make room for both. Maybe she had to try.

 

When the hour became too late, when her body demanded rest at long last, Laura finally closed her eyes, fighting the drooping lids, the heaviness in her legs, the tingling in the fingers of her right hand. She fought and wished that Carmilla had a heartbeat, if only so she could whisper to its rhythm: _you’re here, you’re here, you’re here, you’re here._

~*~

 

On the third day, Laura woke up alone. Her dreams had offered scattered echoes of what was: Perry’s fingers closing around Carmilla’s throat and Laura’s hand on fire. But her lungs seemed to fail as she realized that she was alone. That the bed was empty. That Carmilla was not _here_.

 

_I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t._

 

She stayed paralyzed on her side of the bed, fist grasping the empty white sheet where Carmilla had stayed so still and so silent. And she tried desperately not to feel the vampire’s absence, she tried desperately to ignore how warm the bed was without the cool body to chill the sheets and calm her heated flesh. She tried to ignore the fact that her hand had been charred and then it healed and that meant something more than what she wanted it to mean.

 

Her heart stuttered loudly, too loudly, and Laura wanted to move, but she couldn’t. Not this time. Not when she was alone and her hand was brand new and a part of her wished that it wasn’t. She felt the tears sting her eyes and she did not stop them, not when they welled and dripped across her face, splashing the pillow beneath her cheek. Carmilla was gone. And she was alone. And something was wrong, but she didn’t know what that _something_ was and how was she supposed to move now?

 

“We need to leave.”

 

A voice penetrated the panicked fog, it seemed to come from so far away and Laura knew if she could just move, just uncurl herself, just release her fist, she could find its source.

 

“Laura.”

 

_Turn over. Turn over. Laura. Laura. Laura. Turn over._

 

It was agonizing, the inability to move, but finally Laura turned herself onto her back. And then with a deep, steadying breath, she opened her eyes and sought the source of that voice. Carmilla was barefoot standing beside the bed, her legs bare, and an oversized black t-shirt stuck to her body. It took Laura a second to realize that the woman beside her was soaking wet and briefly she wondered where Perry had gone. Perry who would have shrieked at Carmilla and chased after her with a towel and worried about warping the hard wood and didn’t they know how destructive water damage could be?

 

Except Perry had cracked in half and she probably didn’t care about water stains. At least not anymore. Laura shuddered and sat up too quickly, trying to adjust to the sudden black spots before her eyes. When her vision cleared, Carmilla was still standing there, shivering, her dark hair plastered across her forehead, her cheek, that proud nose and Laura fought the urge to reach out and brush the mess away from those dark eyes.

 

Instead she sat dumbly, starring at an increasingly agitated Carmilla, until her brain caught up to her vocal chords and she found herself asking, “Is it raining?”

 

Carmilla growled, hands balling into fists and it was only when she reached up with one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose that Laura noticed the strangely patterned rash on her arms.

 

“No, Laura. It is not raining. And we need to go.”

 

“But, you’re wet” Laura reasoned, wondering why everything felt so foggy and why Carmilla had showered with her clothes on and why her heart was still hammering when the vampire was very clearly standing in front of her. Soaked. Shaking. _Scared_.

 

“I returned the sword and we need to go.”

 

“The sword?”

 

“Laura! We need to go!”

 

LaF would have been able to put this together. The sword. The water. Laura could hear them in her ear so clearly: _oh, the Blade of Hastur? You returned it. Smart. Probably should’ve done that a while ago._ Except LaF’s eyeballs had liquefied and their frothing spit had drenched Laura’s shoes and LaF couldn’t help anyone anymore.

 

“You left me.” It was all she could think to say, it was all she could do to avoid imagining Carmilla under water, coral burning her arms, as darkness enveloped that cursed blade.

 

“Laura…”

 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, eyeing what seemed to be a row of curved puncture wounds on Carmilla’s left calf. Carmilla had taken the blade back to where she found it. Which was under the ocean. Carmilla had been under the ocean. Carmilla….

 

“Laura,” Carmilla was suddenly crouching before her, Laura could smell the salt on her skin, but they did not touch, not even when the shaking woman before her found her eyes with her own. “I know you’re scared. I get that. But we need to go. You don’t have to come with me, but we need to get out of here. Now.”

 

The urgency in her voice temporarily cleared Laura’s mind. Something was wrong, Carmilla was frazzled, and Laura finally found the strength to stand up and leave the bed.

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“Just grab a change of clothes, your passport, whatever you can find. We need to go.”

 

“Carm. Please.”

 

This time it was Carmilla who seemed to pause at the urgency in Laura’s voice. She turned from the dresser cabinet, halfway between pulling off her soaked shirt and reaching for what looked to be her leather vest.

 

“People are coming to take care of things. And we cannot be here when they arrive.”

 

“People?”

 

“Please, Laura, just listen to me. For once, just stop with the questions and listen to me.”

 

They stared at each other from across the room. Carmilla in only her panties, still shivering from the cool ocean water. Laura, bag in hand, unsure how to pack when half of her belonging did not actually belong to her, and the other half were stained with the final remains of the girl she used to like from afar in her English class. Still, Carmilla was asking so politely, and she was shaking from the cold, and Laura couldn’t hold her – not yet – so the least she could do was obey. This time. Except…

 

“What about Perry?” her voice shook and she wished she could be that person who was selfish in these moments, who pushed onto the lifeboat and said to hell with those souls who were already lost. But that wasn’t her. Even with the new hand and the too healthy lungs, it would never be her.

 

“She’s gone, Cupcake,” came the soft reply from across the room and Laura gasped, feeling tears prickle again.

 

“She’s dead?”

 

“No,” Carmilla turned, tugging on her purple jeans, “arrangements have been made. She’s…safe, Laura. As safe as she can be.”

 

“And JP?”

 

Laura watched as Carmilla’s movements slowed, the white tank top she had popped over her head providing temporary cover for her face. Still, even with her voice muffled, Laura heard the ice in her words.

 

“We came to an understanding.”

 

“An understanding?”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” the vampire replied with a sharp hiss and Laura knew it was time to stop speaking. She could still picture JP’s face after he attacked LaF; his horror, his shame. And then in the pit, when LaF…and Perry. Without saying another word, Laura knew she would never see JP again.

 

They packed in silence from that moment on, grabbing clothing or knick-knacks. Carmilla seemed to be stuffing a ridiculous number of books in her duffle bag, but Laura did not challenge. She sensed that Carmilla needed the silence and it was not until the stood outside the house, eyes watering from the stench of rotting fish god and rotting undergrads and _rotting_ that Carmilla chose to speak once more.

 

“I will get you to Vienna and then you’re free to go,” she said, refusing to meet Laura’s eyes.

 

You’re _free_. Danny was in her pores and in her lungs and in her dreams. And her hand…

 

“I want to come with you. If you want me to.”

 

There was an awful pause, a full moment when Laura expected Carmilla to laugh in her face, to call her a little fool, to banish her from the only thing that made any sense anymore. And then Laura felt the tentative brush of fingers against her knuckles, the familiar coolness of one hand seeking another. Laura tangled their fingers together and squeezed.

 

And then they ran.

 

~*~

 

At the tender age of thirteen, Laura had taped a picture of the Eiffel Tower to her bedroom wall. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but when her classmates were dreaming of picnicking under the Tower’s iron frame with a boyfriend in tow, Laura thought of all the stories she could possibly discover. And of the woman who would bring her baguettes and wine and smile at her from their corner booth in some café on the water.

 

It occurred to her now, as she sat beside a silent Carmilla in a taxicab, that the woman in her dreams never had a face. She was _there_ , with her baguettes and her smile, but Laura could never picture her beyond the vaguest physical sense of another human body next to hers. And now she was in Paris. With a woman. And that woman had burrowed deep into Laura’s circulatory system so that all she could see and all she could feel and all she could think was _Carmilla, Carmilla, Carmilla._ Thirteen-year-old Laura Hollis would have been astounded by the beautiful creature beside her. Nineteen-year-old Laura just wanted to sleep without dreams of charred bones.

 

Their hotel room was swish, all fluffy white duvets and antique furniture and a widescreen television big enough to double as an IMAX screen. Laura decided not to ask about how Carmilla could afford such a room, the penthouse of a fashionable boutique hotel with an unparalleled view of the Eiffel Tower. Vampire inheritance laws were likely complicated and judging from Carmilla’s spending, Mattie had probably left her an exorbitant sum. And Laura did not want to bring up Mattie. Especially not in Paris.

 

Carmilla prowled their room for most of the morning, pausing occasionally to glance out the window, but otherwise lost in her own swirling darkness. Laura felt oddly calmed by her former roommate’s pacing, each creak of the floor, each rattle of the windowsill was a reminder that Carmilla was present, that she hadn’t died in the cavern or drowned in the sea. They were together, whatever _they_ were, and it was enough to let Laura fall into an uneasy rest, covered to the chin in impossibly expensive bedding.

 

She awoke to the low murmur of French at the door and then a weight on the foot of the bed.

 

“Rise and shine, Creampuff,” Carmilla drawled and as Laura sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she was rewarded with a glorious vision. Plates covered in fine silver domes covered the end of the bed and two portable trollies. Carmilla began uncovering the silver dishes on the bed and each one contained more and more impossibly beautiful Parisian delicacies: croissants, cheeses, cured meats, and towering desserts – Laura almost felt herself tear up at the sight.

 

“Between Vordenberg’s rations and the siege…” Carmilla explained, ducking her head shyly as Laura positively beamed with excitement. It had been ages since any of them had eaten a decent meal, certainly not since before their Christmas adventure.

 

Laura joyfully dove in, not caring that she was spilling crumbs onto the bed sheets, as she grabbed breads and cheeses and anything within reach. They ate in silence, shooting each other the occasional grin, even as Carmilla seemed to be having a moment of religious ecstasy over a cappuccino. For the first time in a long time, Laura felt some of the darkness uncurl itself from her insides, the black arthritic hands that had clutched onto her liver and spleen and kidneys seemed to loosen its grip, as she sat happily on the bed, next to Carmilla, and remembered that there was more to life than store-bought cookies and expired Soviet canned goods.

 

It almost seemed to good to be true. The room. And the food. The city. And the girl perched on the end of her bed. For a second Laura let herself fall into the dream, pretending that she couldn’t hear Perry’s voice in her head exclaiming that the scene was wonderfully _normal_. They ate and ate until only one plate remained, and with an arch of one eyebrow in its direction, Carmilla lifted the lid, and both fell silent.

 

The painful hands latched on once more, Laura felt her stomach lurch and her throat tighten. Because on that last plate was a heaping pile of apples. Shiny. Green. Apples. Carmilla’s jaw twitched, her nostrils flared, and Laura didn’t know whether to scream or cry or vomit.

 

And then the apples were on fire.

 

It took Laura a second to put it all together: the twitch of Carmilla’s eye, a slight wiggle of her nose – the vampire looked increasingly pleased with herself as Laura found her voice to yelp at the flaming platter of fruit before her.

 

“ _Carm_!”

 

“They offend me,” she sneered, haughtily raising her chin and Laura was reminded that three-hundred-years ago, the woman before her was very much a Countess.

 

“Okay, I get that, but… _fire_!” Laura stuttered, shaking her hands in front of her, despite Carmilla’s disinterest.

 

Neither could tell who began laughing first. One minute they were very nearly arguing about burning produce, and the next they were lying beside each other on the bed, cackling hysterically.

 

It was so rare to hear Carmilla laugh, truly laugh, so rare that Laura was unsure whether she had heard the sound before. But it was beautiful, heartbreakingly so, and Laura could see Mircalla dancing at a ball, head tipped back at some silly thing one of her paramours muttered in her ear. How they must have worshiped her, how she must have outshone them all, how they must have begged for just _one_ dance, Countess, please notice me, Countess, take my hand, my wealth, my land, all that I have to give, Countess. And how she must have laughed as she twirled out of reach, waltzing in dizzying circles, as they fell to their knees before her, wishing only for one touch, one favour, one glance of those dark eyes.

 

Laura lay on her back trying to catch her breath, happy just to watch Carmilla laugh. And then the vampire grew silent, her brow furrowed, and she turned to face Laura with eyes so sad that it was a marvel she had ever laughed or smiled or felt any joy at all.

 

“They poisoned you,” she whispered, reaching out with one hand to trace the lines of Laura’s face with reverence, as if the skull beneath her fingertips was the most precious, delicate treasure in all the world. Laura nodded soberly, wanting desperately to press her cheek into that palm, to reach forward and beg Carmilla to hold her. But she couldn’t. They couldn’t. Not yet. So instead they lay side by side, Carmilla relearning Laura’s forehead and nose and chin with her fingers and Laura laying still, breathing in the scent of burned apples and the impossible perfume of chocolate and iron and earth that was the woman next to her.

 

“Carm?”

 

“Hmmm?” Carmilla continued her gentle exploration, distracted by the geography of Laura’s face.

 

“I’m sorry you lost, Mattie.”

 

The fingers paused and Carmilla inhaled a shuddering breath. Wet eyes met Laura’s and then a watery smile matched her own as the vampire nodded once before brushing her thumb against Laura’s cheek, catching the salty offering for them both.

 

“Thank you, Laura.”

 

And they spoke of it no more.

 

Long after the sun set, they lay there, until Laura yawned and struggled to keep her eyes open.

 

“Sleep now, Cupcake. I’m not going anywhere,” Carmilla said so softly, with such gentleness in her voice, that Laura heard the echo of her mother in the fog of her exhaustion.

 

Still, she fought against her drooping eyelids, until finally, she chanced to look into Carmilla’s eyes and held her stare.

 

“I’m scared,” she confessed into the sanctuary of the space between them. “When I close my eyes, I see things. I…I’m scared, Carm.”

 

Carmilla did not reach for her body, did not hold her in slim arms and whisper promises. Instead, she found Laura’s fingers with her own and pulled their joined hands to her lips. Pressing a kiss against Laura’s knuckle, she tucked the fist beneath her chin and held it there, anchoring Laura to _here_ and _now_ and silently helping her forget _then_.

 

“O soft embalmer of the still midnight, Shutting with careful fingers and benign,” Carmilla whispered a lullaby for Laura, whose eyes grew heavier still.

 

“Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light, O soothest Sleep! If so it please thee, close, In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,” Carmilla pressed another kiss to Laura’s hand and Laura imagined she could feel the warmth of Carmilla’s palm against her own, lulling her to somewhere safe. That gentle voice continued, that same voice that had cried out for her lost sister, had screamed in agony, was now so delicate that in her half-conscious state, Laura was sure each word was made of spider’s webs and fairy lights.

 

As she finally let sleep take her, as she finally surrendered to the gathering darkness, she heard Carmilla’s final offering, “Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed casket of my soul.”

 

That night she did not dream of Danny. Or the blood and bone and smoke. Instead she dreamt of the rooftop, the candles and the stars. Instead, she dreamt of Carmilla’s mouth around her name.

 

~*~

 

They explored Paris together, hand in hand, in a day that felt like something Laura could never have imagined. Carmilla brought her a dress, all crinoline and skirts, and when Laura murmured that it was just like Audrey Hepburn, Carmilla leaned in close, closer than she had in so long and whispered, “you wear it much better.”

 

There was the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame, the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe, but nothing compared to the moment Carmilla squeezed her hand and tugged her towards an almost hidden doorway in a stone wall, pulling her into underground caverns and ancient, unmarked passageways. The vampire was almost animated as she spoke, pointing out landmarks, regaling Laura with tales of her wild past, and for just that day, Laura allowed herself to pretend that she was a nineteen year old girl, in love, in Paris.

 

It was easier than it should have been, especially when Carmilla would motions towards some second story window in a crumbling tenement and nonchalantly explain that, “see that scorch mark? Mattie and I watched the Bastille burn down from that room, right there.” From that room, right there, in 1789. It should have frightened Laura, this ancient creature pulling her through the streets of Paris, but instead, she felt so very much alive, so very much like a girl who hadn’t swallowed the pulpy remains of her English TA or witnessed her friends drown, choking on their own blood.

 

They sat beneath the shadow of the Eiffel Tower as the sun set, sharing a bottle of wine, looking for all the world like two young women in love. Carmilla didn’t even look a day over twenty, at least not to Laura, especially when she perched her sunglasses on her head and looked up with poorly veiled disgust at the landmark before them. She was almost pouting, it would have been adorable on any other face, but on Carmilla, it was somehow beautiful. Laura wanted to taste that pout. Laura wanted a lot of things in that moment.

 

“A monstrosity, is it not?” Carmilla’s disinterested voice interrupted her train of thought and hoping her blush wasn’t visible, Laura blinked and glanced at the tower.

 

“It’s beautiful, Carmilla, don’t pretend like it isn’t,” she chided gently.

 

“Beautiful? Hardly, Cupcake. When I saw it for the first time I was furious. Mattie had to convince me not to blow it up,” she shook her head at the memory, frowning deeply at the apparently offensive structure.

 

“So Paris was better before the Eiffel Tower? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

 

“Much! I mean, we lost a lot of spectacular sadists in the Revolution, but at least they knew where to find the fine wine,” she punctuated her point by taking a swig from their shared bottle. “Besides, by the time Mattie dragged me back here in the 50s, it was too late to do anything about it.”

 

“You said your mother found you here…after…” Laura heard herself ask the question before she could stop herself. She prepared for the worst, especially as she watched the smirk fall from Carmilla’s features. But, like always, the vampire surprised her.

 

“It took me a while to catch up, _after_ …” she explained, each word sounding more and more difficult as she continued to speak. “I…well, Europe was a mess, Nazis on the run, refugees clogging the trains, Mattie helped. Found me. Dressed me. Took me to the movies. Bought me books.”

 

Carmilla gathered Laura’s hand into her own, seemingly content to play with her fingers as she lay back, resting her head in Laura’s lap.

 

“She even fed me. Brought me snacks. Nazis are surprisingly delicious…”

 

“You ate Nazis?” the wind felt cool as the sun disappeared and Carmilla’s words sent a shiver down her spine.

 

“Ate them. _Killed_ them. All for the war effort, you know?” she mock saluted, but then became serious once more and Laura held her breath for whatever horror was to come next. Instead, her voice came out so softly, no more than a whisper on the breeze.

 

“Mattie saved me. She always did.”

 

Laura ran her fingers through Carmilla’s hair, unsure whether to laugh or cry when the woman in her lap let out a contended purr. This day had been important, something had shifted between them, and neither wanted to break the spell.

 

“You can talk about her with me anytime you want,” Laura said, continuing to play with the dark curls in her hand. Carmilla nodded, swallowing thickly as she turned her face to gaze up at the tower.

 

“Thank you for telling me about her, Carm.”

 

The vampire turned again, meeting Laura’s eyes with her own.

 

“Thanks for listening.”

 

Laura leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Carmilla’s forehead. And they both waited for the light to disappear.

 

~*~

 

That night, Laura’s dreams were full of Danny. Danny in class. Danny in her dorm room. Danny’s hands and Danny’s eyes and Danny’s hair. The hair that had caught aflame, that crept so quickly, impossibly quickly, engulfing everything that Danny ever was and ever would be in its path. Laura’s dreams were full of Danny and she woke up screaming.

 

She was alone in the hotel room; Carmilla’s side of the bed unsurprisingly messy, and Laura could smell Danny’s singed hair and wanted to vomit. She stood up quickly, almost running towards the bathroom, and then stopped as her stomach calmed and the smell of charred flesh was replaced with leather. Or, more accurately, Carmilla’s leather vest tossed haphazardly on the edge of the bed. She raised it to her nose, inhaling deeply, holding it against her chest and trying to remember the feel of Carmilla’s hair beneath her fingers and the sound of her laughter.

 

Still, despite the comforting feel of Carmilla’s shirt in her hands, Laura’s heart was beating far too quickly. Her hand was new and Danny was dead and something was wrong. Setting the vest down on the bed, she finally noticed the small assortment of items sitting prominently on a side table nearby. She recognized Carmilla’s swirled handwriting on the hotel’s letterhead and despite her fear, the note made her smile.

 

_Clothes to wear._

_Food to eat._

_Phone to call._

_Money – surprise me, Creampuff._

-       _C_

Laura pulled on the airy sundress, trying to stop her hands from shaking as she did. She was nineteen and she was in Paris and she had money and a camera and time. The brand new iPhone only had one contact listed and the pile of euros on the table was too generous, but Laura was determined to forget her dreams and enjoy the day. Grabbing the croissant Carmilla had left for her, she walked out the door, leaving Danny behind her.

 

Despite the warm breeze and the sun, Laura felt the sickening sensation of gathering darkness all day. She desperately tried to focus on the here and now, taking pictures, smiling at tourists and locals alike. Yet something cold was making its way up her spine, spreading into her lungs, underneath her ribs, spreading, spreading, spreading and she shook in the sunlight and felt the pain in her gums as her teeth chattered.

 

She tried to distract herself with anything she could think of; museums, tourist attractions, but it was only while searching the shelves of an ancient, dusty bookshop that she felt her lips tug into a genuine smile. She pulled the black bound volume off the shelf, happily gazing at its cover and knowing for certain that Carmilla would appreciate such a thing. The copy of _The Jungle Book_ was old, a French printing from 1897, but what drew Laura’s appreciation was the image on the front: two red eyes gazing forward, seemingly emerging from the dark binding. Bagheera’s eyes, _black as a pit and terrible…_

 

Laura held the book to her chest for a moment, imaging it in Carmilla’s hand as she curled herself into a chair and poured over its well-loved pages. That alone was enough to make her feel brave, brave enough to carry on with her day, despite the whispers of Danny’s screams she seemed to hear in every passing voice.

 

With the book safely held in her purse, Laura set out once more, pondering her next move. She stepped into the street, carefully looking both ways, and then she was on the ground, surrounded by people, all saying words that she couldn’t understand.

 

And she was bleeding. A bike messenger had clipped her on his way down the road and Laura starred at her arm, where the sharp edge of his handlebars had sliced through flesh down to the bone. It was _spurting_ ; she knew that was bad, probably very bad. But the people were yelling and she didn’t know any of them and her arm looked like a fountain.

 

“ _Mademoiselle_!” someone was shouting at her, there was a man with a moustache crouching before her, but she couldn’t hear him. Not when LaF was yelling so loudly.

 

“LaF…” she mumbled, furrowing her brow in an attempt to concentrate. She could see her bones again, shining unnaturally in the Parisian sun, and so many people were there, touching her shoulders, shouting, shouting, and she didn’t want them to touch her.

 

 _Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me_.

 

Someone was pressing a scarf to her wound and she watched in fascination as the red from her arm slowly stained the blue cloth, creating a ghoulish purple pattern on the material. Except…it was too slow, too slow for the severed veins in her arm, and Laura pushed the helpful scarf away. The spurting had stopped. The bleeding had almost stopped. She could no longer see bone. She could see healthy tissue and muscle _re-growing_ before her very eyes. And that’s when she started screaming.

 

The voices around her continued, all in a swirl of noise, and her own cries joined them until everything was chaos and sound and Laura could see new skin forming on the margins of the cut and this wasn’t right. It wasn’t _right_.

 

“Can I call someone for you?” the heavily accented voice broke through her hysteria, and her watery eyes found a friendly looking young man, settled before her on one knee. She pointed to her purse where it lay beside her, trying to find her voice through the scream.

 

It seemed to take minutes, maybe hours, but the man was speaking softly in French to someone on her phone, and then the crowd was parting and another voice broke through the static and Laura’s vision was filled with black leather.

 

“Laura?”

 

Her arm was healed, only a faint pink line remained on the skin, and with shaking hands Laura reached forward, locking her fingers around Carmilla’s biceps.

 

“Hey, hey, Cutie. Look at me,” she felt Carmilla’s own hands gently holding her elbows and with tear-filled eyes she looked up to find the vampire crouching in front of her. The crowd seemed to disappear, the shouting had stopped, and it was only Laura and Carmilla, heads bowed low together, sharing a tiny patch of the world.

 

“Carm?”

 

“Yes, _liebling_?”

 

“Carm…I want to go home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty poetry from "To Sleep" by John Keats.
> 
> Shout out to my Duct Tape Squad for their love.
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr, I'll whisper swoony poetry in your ear: @wrackwonder


	3. Chapter 3

“Is your friend okay?”

 

Laura looked up at the flight attendant in slight confusion until she remembered that Carmilla’s sleeping habits could be unconventional. Sure enough, the vampire was awkwardly curled into the window seat, one leg pressed against her chest, the other curving along the armrest. The low lights of the cabin and Carmilla’s insistence on wearing all black leather made her look even more pale than usual. And then there was the fact that she wasn’t breathing, not really, although she let out the occasional sad, little mewl, which Laura would quiet with a light stroke against the back of her head.

 

Laura found it charming, the flight attendant likely thought that a teenage girl had died or was in the process of dying and the flight from Paris would have to be diverted.

 

“Just a deep sleeper,” Laura answered, adjusting her headphones and shooting the concerned woman a reassuring grin. The flight attendant took one last glance at Carmilla, who chose that moment to shift slightly, revealing a copy of _Le Livre de la Jungle_ resting in her arms. It was endearing enough to apparently convince the woman that the passenger in row thirty-six no longer needed her attention.

 

Laura pulled a blanket from her own lap and tossed it lightly over Carmilla. The airplane was cold and the vampire, though impervious to temperature, was shivering in her sleep. Looking out the window, Laura could already make out the tiny lights of civilization below.

 

She was almost home.

 

~*~

 

For the first time since the accident in Paris, Laura let go of Carmilla’s hand.

 

She raced up the small sidewalk leading to her front door, dropping the handle of her suitcase and her carry-on bag on the sidewalk. She had wanted to go home for so long and now it was within reach. The front door of the two-story home swung open and Laura sprinted the rest of the way, nearly leaping into the outstretched arms of her father.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” came a voice from somewhere above her head, but Laura kept her face pressed into the broad chest before her. She used to complain about her height, but her dad would always say that she fit perfectly in his arms, that her head was at the same level as his heart, and she was right where she was supposed to be. Pressing her cheek against him, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, she knew now that he had always been right.

 

“Dad,” she breathed into him, squeezing as tightly as she could, terrified that if she let go, he would disappear and she would be back in the crater at Silas. If she let go, Danny would be on fire and her hand would be a husk and Carmilla’s eyes would be red from the godsblood.

 

“Laura, hey now, let me look at you.” She felt his large, warm hands gently rest on her shoulders and allowed herself to be pushed back slightly. His face was the same – honey brown hair neatly slicked back, closely cropped at the sides, warm eyes, that funny nose that had been broken in a high-school football accident, and the same beard that tickled her cheek every time he leaned down to kiss her before dropping her off at school. He was safety and strength and comfort all wrapped in broad shoulders and bushy eyebrows and the kindest smile that she had ever known.

 

She held onto his blue polo shirt as he looked down at her, fearful of letting him go after all of this time, but even more fearful of what he would find lurking in her eyes. With a furrowed brow he sighed and shook his head, frowning slightly at his daughter.

 

“You should have told me you were coming, I would have changed my meeting,” he began and Laura braced herself from the rest. She _should have_ a lot of things.

 

“I know, Dad, I’m sorry, it was sort of last minute and…”

 

“Last minute?” the bushy eyebrows shot up incredulously and his frown deepened. “Laura, I get a phone call that your school has been demolished! Something about a gas leak…and my kid is in Paris on some type of journalism assignment and doesn’t think to call me?”

 

A gas leak? The mention of Silas made her hand tingle and she tried to fight the tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of her father, she didn’t want the questions that would come with it. So she tried to breathe, she tried to centre herself and not think about the school or the smoke or the sound of cracking bone.

 

“I apologize, sir. We had some difficulties with the phones in France. Modern technology, you know?”

 

Carmilla’s voice felt like a steadying hand on her chest and Laura actually looked down to make sure the vampire hadn’t stealthily reached forward to rest a cool palm against the front of her shirt. Instead, Carmilla was standing slightly apart from the domestic scene, her ruck sack over one shoulder, and Laura’s suitcase and carry-on bag in both hands. Her presence seemed to startle both father and daughter, who turned and started chatting at her simultaneously.

 

“Oh, Carm! Let me…”

 

“Young lady you’ll hurt your...”

 

“Dad, this is…”

 

“Roger, please, it’s Roger…”

 

And then Carmilla smiled. A wide, indulgent grin, and it made Laura’s lungs hurt just to look at her.

 

“Roger,” the vampire said in that slow, languid way she had, lowering one of Laura’s bags to extend her hand. Roger Hollis stepped forward and gladly accepted her offering, which made Laura feel a strange mixture of warmth and terror inside. She had never brought anyone home before. And now Carmilla Karnstein, a three hundred year old vampire, was shaking her father’s hand. While standing on the sidewalk. In front of her childhood home. Where she would be sleeping. Under the same roof. Laura raised a hand to her chest, wanting to forever remember the moment. Her father and her… _Carmilla_.

 

The house looked the same, clean and quaint and well lived in. Everything from the furniture to the pictures on the walls eased the swirling darkness in her thoughts. There was no evil here, no rotting gods, or immolated friends, or shattered hopes. Just her dad and her childhood paintings; the dark brown couch with the itchy tartan throw tossed neatly on top, the white kitchen counters with the little stain in the corner from a childhood art project disaster. Even the pictures were the same; her grandparents, a day at the beach, and her mom, always her mom. Her mom as a child. Her mom on her wedding day. Her mom holding an infant Laura. Her mom crouching next to Laura at six, beaming identical smiles, unable to guess that the very next day would be their last together. Carmilla paused in front of this particular picture, running her fingers over Laura’s little frozen face.

 

“Cheeks,” she smirked and Laura nodded, shrugging a little bashfully. “Your mother was beautiful, you are quite like her, you know?”

 

“Just not the eyes or the hair colour,” Laura said, almost from habit, the same way she had nearly everyday since the funeral. Carmilla peered at the portrait for another second before nodding in agreement.

 

“Car accident,” Laura shrugged again, not wanting to discuss it in detail. It was strange that Carmilla didn’t know, strange that for all they were to each other, they had had so little time to share of themselves. Laura knew small snippets of Carmilla’s life as a vampire and almost nothing of her world before the ball. And, she realized, Carmilla likely knew next to nothing about her own life before Silas. It made her feel a strange distance between them. It made her feel like she had never been closer to anyone on earth.

 

“Go be with your father,” Carmilla broke her pondering, tearing her eyes from the picture and glancing at Laura.

 

“Will you be okay?” _Will I be okay without you near?_

 

“I’ll be in the guest room, Cupcake, you won’t miss me for a second.”

 

Laura watched as the vampire climbed up the stairs and vanished down the dark hallway. The second she disappeared from view, Laura knew Carmilla had lied. Her chest already ached from missing her.

 

~*~

 

Laura found her dad seated on the couch, seemingly waiting for her with a bowl of popcorn and an extra blanket. She was grateful for his lack of questions, she knew they would come eventually, but she wasn’t ready to explain. Nor could she, not really. Instead, she happily sat down next to him, curling into his side, as he wrapped one arm around her and squeezed.

 

“I have a surprise for you,” he smiled, clicking on the TV and switching to their DVR.

 

“The Christmas Special? You waited?” Laura asked gleefully, nearly vibrating with joy.

 

“Of course I did, kiddo! Can’t watch _Doctor Who_ without my number one girl.”

 

They both hummed along to the theme music, just enjoying each other’s company. Laura was tired, but so content in her father’s arms that she never wanted to move, never wanted to leave. It was hard remembering why she had left in the first place not so long ago. For years she wanted to flee her hometown, see the world, but Silas had proved that the world could be both impossibly beautiful and impossibly terrifying all at once.

 

“Laura?” his voice was surprisingly soft, almost as if he thought she was already asleep. She looked up at him, finding her father’s face a mask of worry and concern.

 

“You would tell me if something was wrong, right?”

 

She swallowed thickly, nodding at his question, unable to open her mouth because if she did, the ashes of her dead friends would come spewing forth and she wanted to keep them locked inside, in the dark, away from his crooked nose and ticklish beard.

 

“That gas leak, they said there were no casualties, that the students were away, but…” he trailed off, obviously trying to word his question carefully. Laura braced herself, pressing her face into his shoulder, trying to remind herself that she was safe here. That there were no crows or Barons or soul-eating swords.

 

“Were you hurt, Laura? Or, your friends…are they okay?”

 

The tears came then, but she still could not find the words, so instead she shook her head against his shoulder, watching as the light blue material of his shirt turned dark where she had cried against him. He held her even tighter, lightly stroking her back with his free hand.

 

“And, Carmilla, was she hurt?”

 

She could see Carmilla with blood-shot eyes, so high on the godsblood that for a moment, it seemed like _Carmilla_ was gone, replaced with some shrieking, hysterical thing. The screams were so loud, her hands had been fisted into claws, and she screamed and screamed and screamed until Laura’s ears burned from the sound.

 

Again she nodded her head, and he leaned down to press a kiss against her hair.

 

“You’re okay now, sweetheart, I have you. You’re always safe with me, you know that.” His voice was so soothing that Laura wanted to believe him. She desperately wanted to feel as though nothing could ever touch her again. But evil _had_ touched her, it had changed her, and she stared at her right hand balled into the material of her father’s shirt.

 

“I love you, dad,” she managed and he kissed her head again.

 

“Love you too, little one.”

 

“I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll be better with the phone now,” she promised, feeling him nod against her.

 

“You’re all I’ve got, Laura, you know how I get…”

 

“I know, I was scared and…I’m here now. I want to be here now.”

 

“Then here is where you’ll be,” he said with a finality that made her feel like maybe he was right. Maybe she could stay.

 

They sat in silence until the episode was over and as the credits rolled, father and daughter turned to each other, smiling shyly. Roger reached over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Laura’s ear and Laura offered him a smile in return, trying to make her face look as reassuring as possible.

 

“We should both get some rest now. I have that early meeting tomorrow, but then I’m all yours.”

 

“Okay, dad,” she yawned, stepping into his arms for a goodnight hug.

 

“You know you can talk to me about anything,” he voice came from somewhere over her head, just like it always did, and she found herself nodding into his chest again. “Anything at all, like that girl currently sleeping in my guest room…”

 

“Dad…”

 

“When you’re ready, kid. Just tell me this. Is she good to you?”

 

Laura paused and took a deep breath, wondering if a time would come when she lost the need to constantly center herself.

 

“She saved my life,” came the response and she braced for some fatherly words of warning or, at the very least, a frown. Instead, he smiled and his eyes crinkled in the corners as he rested one large hand warmly on her shoulder.

 

“I would expect nothing less.”

 

He leaned in to kiss her on the forehead and Laura exhaled.

 

~*~

 

Her bedroom looked the same, but she had changed and it left her feeling out of place. The yellow and purple blanket from her grandmother was still on the bed. Even the faded picture of the Eiffel Tower was still tapped on the wall. Everything was as she left it, but her hand was new, and nothing felt right. Her suitcase stood in the corner of the room, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it. Instead, she pulled out an old pair of pyjamas from her wardrobe. They smelled like home. The clothing in her suitcase smelled like an airplane, and the like Paris, and like Danny’s spine.

 

She changed slowly, first removing her jeans and t-shirt, then her bra and underwear, and finally replaced it all with a worn pair of flannel PJ bottoms and a white tank top. Her father was downstairs in his bedroom and Carmilla was presumably in their attic guestroom and she was alone. She knew she should just get into the bed, pull back the covers, lie down, and sleep. But she couldn’t. Because her hand was new and she was home and her father was downstairs in his bedroom and…

 

The window squeaked open and without turning to look, Laura knew that she had a visitor. Sure enough, Carmilla was perched in the windowsill, still in her leather pants, but barefoot, and wearing only a loose, moth-eaten black t-shirt. The moonlight cast shadows over her high cheekbones and in that moment, Laura thought she looked like some ethereal night spirit, come to take her to the Otherworld.

 

“Hey,” she whispered, still finding it difficult to speak. Carmilla settled herself in the frame, shooting Laura a little smile.

 

“Hey,” she answered back. They seemed to always find themselves like this, staring at each other across the room, silence filling the space. But this time, Laura didn’t like the silence. Nor did she like the space.

 

“You can come in,” she offered, watching as Carmilla ducked under the window and crawled inside. Now at least they were face-to-face, but still, neither knew quite where to begin. Until the fingers on Laura’s right hand tingled and she couldn’t hold back any longer.

 

“Something is happening to me,” she said and Carmilla winced, nodding slightly in agreement.

 

“My hand,” Laura stuttered, holding the limb in question before her. “You saw it, Carm. _You saw it_. It was…it was gone. It shouldn’t be here! But it is! _It is!_ And I don’t know why!” She hated that her voice was becoming hysterical. She hated that she was shaking. But she could not stop the words, not once they started tumbling out.

 

For her part, Carmilla looked pained and could only shake her head.

 

“I don’t know, Laura.”

 

“Why don’t you know?” Laura knew how ridiculous the question was, but a part of her needed Carmilla to know, to step in, to explain this somehow. If not Carmilla, then who?

 

“I just don’t! Mattie may have known, or Maman, but…I was just a pawn, Laura. There was so little I truly understood.”

 

“Am I immortal?” It was blunt and Laura slapped her left hand over her mouth as soon as the word left her lips. She didn’t want to know, not really, except she had to, and the question had been trying to break free since the day Carmilla stripped off her Danny-drenched clothes and wept against her shoulder in the Dean’s shower.

 

“I…I don’t know. It’s possible, I suppose.”

 

“You suppose?”

 

“Laura,” Carmilla begged, her face an anguished mix of fear and heartbreak. “You should not have survived the sword, but you did. And I don’t know what it means.”

 

“But I can heal now, so does that mean I won’t age? Or I’ll age slowly? Or…”

 

“ _I don’t know_.”

 

“That’s not good enough!” she snapped, tears pouring down her face. She was so tired of crying and feeling afraid. She was just so tired. And Carmilla didn’t know. She didn’t know.

 

For her part, Carmilla bowed her head, unable to offer anything more than questions and half-baked theories. The sight of the vampire so defeated made Laura ache all over. In some ways, it was the answer she had dreaded the most.

 

“I don’t want to be immortal,” she whispered, brushing the tears from her face furiously with both hands.

 

“I know,” Carmilla said with a heavy sigh.

 

“I…I wanted my hair to turn white. My mom never had white hair and I wanted my hair to turn white.”

 

Carmilla looked at her with such haunted eyes, but Laura couldn’t stop speaking. Not now that she had started.

 

“I wanted children, Carm.”

 

“You can still have…”

 

“To watch them die?” her tears had slowed, but she ached with the loss of her dreams. She had wanted so many things and suddenly, they were gone, like Danny, down the drain.

 

“I didn’t want this,” she mumbled, starring down at her right hand, that traitorous right hand that was living proof that she was different now.

 

“I know,” Carmilla’s voice shook and Laura looked up, gazing into the tear-filled eyes of the vampire. She found herself suddenly thinking of Carmilla’s scars and her story, about Maman finding her, about Vordenberg stealing her. She did know. She did understand. More than anyone could ever possibly understand. It was as if another invisible chain linked them, binding them together, closer and closer, and Laura could feel it wrapping around her heart, pulling her forevermore towards the woman standing in front of her.

 

“You do, don’t you?” Laura asked, needing to see that Carmilla understood the gravity of the situation. She did. Of course she did. And her silent nod was enough to tell Laura everything.

 

“I never wanted this for you,” the vampire said, spreading her hands before her. “I wasn’t given a choice and I…I never wanted this. Not for you.”

 

This time it was Laura’s turn to nod silently. She had no more words to say. They had no more answers. She was surprised when Carmilla straightened her back, looking suddenly determined.

 

“I will never ask you to stay with me,” she began, raising her hand to stop Laura from answering. “You do not belong to me, you are not my plaything. Just because you’ve… _changed_ , I will not treat you as Maman treated me. You are free, Laura.”

 

“What, I can’t join your immortal club, is that it?”

 

“Laura…”

 

“No, Carm, you’re just going to ditch me now that I’m not weak, human, Laura?” she balled her hands into fists, nearly vibrating with anger. It was all she could do not to lash out at the vampire, force her to leave and never return. Except she couldn’t, she could never do that, so instead she turned her back and let herself seethe out of sight.

 

“I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to stay with me. This is your life, Laura, _your life_. And I will not stand in the way.”

 

The way her voice cracked calmed Laura slightly. She heard the fear beneath her words, the resignation. And taking a deep breath, Laura asked what she had wanted to ask since finding Carmilla bloody and silent after the final battle.

 

“You said you loved me. Did you mean it?”

 

The silence returned, but Laura could not turn around. She was terrified of what she’d find. Or what she wouldn’t find. But she needed to know, so she waited.

 

“I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints,” Carmilla’s voice was so low and so steady and Laura heard her bare feet against the floor moving softly.

 

“I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life.” That voice was coming closer still and Laura shivered in anticipation. She uncurled her fists and waited, feeling tears spring from her eyes once more.

 

“And, if God choose,” she could now feel Carmilla against her back, as two pale arms curled around her waist. She raised her own hands to circle the wrists resting against her hipbones. And then Carmilla’s voice was beside her ear, her breath causing her hair to flutter as she spoke.

 

“I shall but love thee better after death.”

 

Laura spun around then, unable to stop herself as her hands buried themselves in Carmilla’s hair and she pressed her lips against the woman before her. It felt so right to be doing this, so incredibly intoxicating, as she sucked gently on Carmilla’s bottom lip before running her tongue against the heated flesh. Carmilla’s fingers were hard against her hips and Laura stepped closer, forcing their chests together, and she swallowed Carmilla’s moan, curling her tongue against the roof of her mouth, wanting desperately to taste her words and make them a part of her soul.

 

And then Carmilla tore herself away, leaving Laura breathless and dazed as the vampire stepped back, wrapping her arms around her body.

 

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, unable to look Laura in the eye.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Are you just…scared? And I’m here? I’m here forever and maybe you’re here forever so it’s convenient?” Beneath the accusatory remarks there was such vulnerability, such honest hurt, that Laura wanted to reach out and pull the shaking woman with swollen lips into her arms and never let go. Instead, she paused, gathering her thoughts.

 

“I _am_ scared,” she began, taking one step closer to Carmilla. “But, I’m doing this, I’m here with you, because I love you. I am in love with you.”

 

She did not reach out, but instead waited, watching the realization dawn on Carmilla’s features. She seemed to study Laura’s face for a moment, really study her, but with her brow still furrowed, Laura knew she needed to say even more.

 

“Ask me.”

 

“What?” Carmilla muttered, confused.

 

“That thing that you said you’d never ask me, ask me.”

 

“Laura…”

 

“Carmilla,” she said, taking yet another step forward. “ _Ask me_.”

 

The vampire licked her lips and squared her shoulders, shooting Laura the most open and heartbreakingly vulnerable look she had ever seen.

 

“Stay with me,” she whispered breathlessly.

 

And then Laura had locked her arms around Carmilla’s shoulders and pressed their foreheads together.

 

“I don’t know how long I have,” she said, brushing her nose against Carmilla’s, “I don’t know if I have a day or if I have forever. But whatever I have, I will stay with you for as long as I can. Because I am in love with you, Mircalla Von Karnstein, impossibly in love with you.”

 

There were no more words. Carmilla kissed her roughly, opening her mouth to let Laura in while her hands made quick work of Laura’s white tank top. Laura blindly grabbed for Carmilla’s shirt, not wanting to step away from the lips currently pressed against her own. They fumbled with their clothing, not caring where shirts or pants fell on the floor, only needing to be closer, to feel skin on skin after so long apart.

 

Laura ducked her head, pressing open mouthed kisses against Carmilla’s chest and then down, between her breasts, needing desperately to taste her scar, to swallow the violence with her tongue and keep it safe inside where it could never harm Carmilla again. The vampire gasped as Laura sucked the faint silver line, and then Laura felt a tug on the back of her head and Carmilla was pulling her lips towards her own once more. They could not stop kissing each other, not even when Carmilla’s hands swept up Laura’s torso and circled each breast, a hard nipple straining against her cool palms. Laura needed more though, they both did, so she pushed backwards, guiding Carmilla towards the bed and impatiently laying her down against the yellow and purple blanket.

 

If she had been thinking clearly, if she hadn’t been so intoxicated by the body beneath hers, she would have realized that she was about to have sex on her childhood bed, in her childhood home, with her childhood blanket spread beneath the pale body bellow. Except she wasn’t thinking clearly, all she could think was _Carmilla, Carmilla, Carmilla_ , as she lay down beside the vampire and grazed her teeth over that impossibly strong jaw and down, to where a pulse point once beat.

 

Carmilla’s hands were everywhere, in her hair, down her back, and Laura felt like she was being relearned, like she was being held in the hands of an artist who only wanted to gently worship a masterpiece. It made her feel brave and strong. It made her feel alive. She wedged her leg between Carmilla’s own, feeling dampness soak her thigh, and the vampire moaned quietly against her. It made Laura greedy, she wanted everything all at once and flexing her leg, she leaned down, sucking on one of the hard pink nipples, so deliciously smooth against her tongue. She heard her name, breathless and desperate and it spurred her on as she reached down to cup her hand, her new hand, between Carmilla’s legs.

 

She pressed her thumb against a swollen clit, smiling when the woman beneath her opened her mouth in a silent gasp. Swirling one finger against the dampness, Laura waited for Carmilla to give her some sign that this is what she wanted, that this is how she wanted it. It came seconds later when Carmilla gazed up at her with black eyes, one hand circling around Laura’s wrist in reassurance as she said, “inside, I need…inside.”

 

They both moaned as Laura obeyed and with a steady thrust forward, they were joined, and Laura felt invincible. She watched as Carmilla’s head tilted back, as her eyes squeezed shut, as her elegant rib cage expanded with each sharp intake of breath. Laura curled her fingers and using her thumb, pressed down, making rough circles against Carmilla’s clit. The woman beneath her moaned, head still tilted back, but this time, Laura watched as those fangs descended, silently, deadly, gleaming white in that gasping mouth.

 

It was all Laura could do not to cry out. She felt such a tug between her legs that it was almost distracting, but the sight of those fangs made her wet, so incredibly wet, that she couldn’t stop herself from grinding down against Carmilla’s thigh and trying desperately to find some friction. With each thrust inside Carmilla, she slid herself against the smooth leg, leaving a trail of sleek wetness in her stead. In her own haze, Carmilla noticed Laura’s sudden, desperate movement, and with her left arm, pulled her forward as Laura thrust down against the leg beneath her. They were suddenly face to face, both panting, as Laura continued to curl her fingers. Carmilla leaned up and kissed her and Laura could feel those fangs against her teeth and it was enough to make her moan again.

 

“You can bite,” she managed to say, her voice ragged with desire, but Carmilla – who had curled one leg around Laura’s backside – shook her head.

 

“Never,” she growled, running a hot tongue along Laura’s neck and then falling back against the pillows as Laura changed her angle and thrust deeper and deeper still. The sight of Carmilla spread out beneath her, the feel of her leg against her ass, the other leg spread to give her room, made her feel drunk and sweaty and Laura never wanted to leave this moment, never wanted to be anymore but inside Carmilla.

 

Still, as she continued her rhythm, Carmilla’s hips meeting each thrust, she felt the sudden tightness, a sudden fluttering against her fingers and knew her vampire could not hold out for much longer. She braced herself on her free arm and pushed down hard again with her thumb, finding Carmilla’s lips once more with her own. And with one final thrust, Carmilla gasped into her mouth, arching her back and grabbing Laura’s shoulders with sharp fingers as she came undone. It was beautiful, the most beautiful thing Laura had ever seen, and she watched in wonder as Carmilla’s face changed, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in silent ecstasy, and that body beneath her, coiled, gasping, sweaty. Laura wanted to keep her like this forever, to tuck Carmilla into her ribcage, to burry her face between her thighs and brush her scars with sticky fingers and never, ever let her go.

 

Carmilla came down slowly and Laura nearly wept as she pulled her fingers out, despite her desperate wish to stay inside this woman forever. She raised them to her mouth, sucking hungrily, and then gathered Carmilla into her arms, needing to feel close, closer than she could possibly get. Laura did not say anything when Carmilla pressed her face into her shoulder, nor did she remark on the sudden wetness against her chest, a wetness that she knew was not sweat. Rubbing the vampires back, she whispered softly into her ear, that she felt so good, that she wanted to be inside forever, that she tasted like magic. And when Carmilla had calmed, Laura found her eyes with her own and was rewarded with a smile. She reached up with one hand and gently touched the fangs with the pads of her fingers, first one, then the other, knowing that only she would ever see Carmilla like this. Vulnerable. Exposed. Open. She pressed a kiss to the corner of Carmilla’s mouth and smiled down at her.

 

“I love you,” she whispered and something flashed in Carmilla’s eyes. And then two strong hands locked around Laura’s thigh and she was being pulled up, over Carmilla’s chest, above her chin and… _oh_ …

 

They had never done this before. _Laura_ had never done this before, but with her hands on the headboard, and Carmilla’s own hands locked around her back to steady her, she lowered herself against Carmilla’s mouth. And felt like she was going to die. Because Carmilla tongue was doing so much and she couldn’t breathe and she never wanted this to end and she wanted, she wanted, _she wanted, she wanted, she wanted_ …

 

She let go of the headboard with one hand, reaching behind her for Carmilla, and without stopping for a second, Carmilla grasped the offered hand, squeezing it tightly, and Laura was sure her heart was going to explode. She pulled their intertwined hands towards her, forcing Carmilla’s hand against her breast, and the woman beneath her twisted her nipple harshly, making Laura tip her head back and gasp for air. She lowered her now free hand into Carmilla’s hair, bouncing gently on her knees, feeling her vision go hazy as Carmilla let go of her breast and lowered her hand to Laura’s clit, rubbing her roughly, just like she liked, and she could feel herself going lightheaded, her vision blurring around the edges.

 

When she came seconds later, it was not from Carmilla’s tongue buried inside her, nor from those talented fingers. It was the hard, blunt, brush of a fang against her clit that sent her spiralling. And in that moment of euphoria, as Carmilla raised her face to relentlessly lap at her release, Laura found herself thinking that forever was not nearly enough time.

 

And then she thought no more.

 

~*~

 

They lay side-by-side, hands joined and resting against Carmilla’s shoulder. Laura was still panting, but her breathing was slowing down to normal, and she smiled lazily at the sight of Carmilla’s body, covered in mouth-shaped bruises from her neck, to her breasts, and down. She knew she had quite a few of her own, little battle scars that would heal before she wanted them to. Feeling Carmilla squeeze her fingers, Laura glanced over with a smile.

 

“Hey,” she said, and Carmilla pressed a kiss to the back of Laura’s hand, offering a smile of her own.

 

“Hey,” she answered and Laura had never felt more in love with her than in that moment.

 

It was peaceful for a time, the silence soothing, and the sudden closeness welcome after weeks spent circling each other. Laura felt safe here, in this house, in this bed, beside this woman. Safer than she ever thought possible again. And she didn’t think of death or rot or blood. Instead, she let herself feel fear and love and hope as it all swirled in the air above her.

 

“Carm?” she whispered into the darkness. The vampire turned on her side, propping her head up with one hand.

 

“Hmmm?” she reached to rest her fingers against Laura’s stomach, tracing patterns beneath her breasts.

 

“I want to go back to school. Somewhere around here, but I want to finish my degree.”

 

Carmilla seemed to ponder this for a moment before nodding.

 

“Okay,” was all she said before lowering herself against Laura’s shoulder.

 

“Laura?”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“I want to travel,” Carmilla’s voice was small and Laura reached to gently squeeze her bicep where it lay across her own chest. “I want to find out more about the Blade, more about your hand.”

 

This time it was Laura’s turn to ponder, but she found herself pressing a kiss to Carmilla’s forehead before whispering, “okay.”

 

They settled in then, Carmilla resting in Laura’s arm, pressing the occasional kiss to her shoulder. Laura thought she had fallen asleep and was about to close her own eyes, but after thirty minutes, the woman next to her shifted and propped her head up once more.

 

“Did you mean what you said, earlier?” she asked and the vulnerability in her eyes had returned in full force.

 

“That I loved you?” Laura felt her stomach drop. The idea that Carmilla still doubted, after everything…

 

“No, when I asked you to stay, that thing you said after…”

 

Laura reached up to grasp the other woman’s chin and forced Carmilla to look at her. She curled her fingers into Carmilla’s hair, stroking the wild locks gently.

 

“I will stay with you for as long as I can,” she repeated and Carmilla furrowed her brow, as if trying to make some decision. Whatever it was, she made it seconds later, when she reached over Laura to try and find something on the floor. Laura giggled softly at the sudden expanse of white flesh draped over her chest, and she playfully tickled the body on top of her from her neck all the way down to that beautifully curved ass.

 

When Carmilla sprung up a second later, Laura was surprised to find her holding her phone. She swiped her thumb across its screen a few times, face set in concentration, before seemingly finding what she was looking for.

 

“My mom died too, my real mother,” she confessed, passing the phone to Laura. It was a picture of an oil painting, obviously taken from a museum. The woman before her was grand, with pale skin and a heart shaped face, her dark hair swept back, revealing elegant grey streaks at the temples. But those eyes, those eyes were unmistakable, and Laura knew without a doubt that she was looking at a portrait of Mircalla Von Karnstein’s mother.

 

“A year after I was…a year after, she died, they say from heartbreak.” Laura lowered the phone, letting the image of Elisabeth Von Karnstein fade into darkness. Carmilla’s hair would never turn white either. Laura felt her chest swell, but swallowed hard, feeling the gravity of Carmilla’s choice to share the image with her and only her.

 

“I love you,” she pressed a soft kiss to Carmilla’s lips, helping her turn in her arms.

 

“I love you too,” Carmilla whispered back, moulding herself into Laura’s body, and reaching for her hand. She guided it up, towards her breast, and Laura kissed her shoulder and then lay back against the pillows, holding the woman in her arms as closely as she could.

 

And that night she almost let herself believe that Carmilla would be enough for her. That her vision of a little boy with dark hair and dark eyes running towards her was nothing compared to the life that awaited. She almost let herself believe.

 

 Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poetry stylings by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. From "Sonnet 43."
> 
> Duct Tape Squad shout out.
> 
> If you like what you're reading, drop me a comment! They make me gleefully go and type more (also, I'm needy and just want love - comments are yummy). Come hang with me on tumblr: @wrackwonder


	4. Chapter 4

The new dorm room was blessedly unlike anything she had seen at Silas. There were no hardwood floors or turn of the century lighting or doorknobs that fell off with the slightest pressure. It was still a dorm room, but it didn’t remind her of the yellow pillow or the candles or the scent of old books lingering under beds and inside shelves. Instead, everything was white, modern, sterile. It lacked character and Laura was relieved.

 

Her new roommate was busy chatting on her phone, which gave Laura a few moments to gaze with mild interest at the other side of the room. The walls were covered in photographs: Lindsay with her parents, Lindsay at a party, Lindsay with so many different faces that Laura couldn’t even begin to guess at who they were or why they mattered. Her own side of the room was empty and as she sat on her small twin bed clutching her phone, she felt the now familiar wave of anxiety wash over her. Except there was no one there to stop it this time. Carmilla was far, far away, and Laura needed to be her own hero.

 

There were no pictures on her wall because her friends had all died. There were no pictures on her wall because her mother was dead. There were no pictures on her wall because Carmilla had left weeks ago and only sent the odd text message letting her know she was still alive. There were no pictures on her wall because Laura didn’t want to be the girl surrounded by ghosts.

 

Lindsay was still busy and Laura knew she should stand up, unpack, organize her desk and get ready for the semester. But her phone vibrated before she could and she looked down, expecting yet another message from her dad. She only had two people in her contact list and one of them was notoriously bad at keeping in touch. Yet, as she thumbed across the lock screen, a new message appeared – a message from Carmilla.

 

 _Give ‘em hell, Cupcake_.

-       _C_

She smiled softly, pressing her finger lightly against the screen as if she could feel the vampire across some digital distance. Carmilla’s quest for answers had led her far away and although she had promised to return, promised in the night as they lay curled into each other, Laura missed her desperately. She swiped her thumb once more, finding the one image she had on this phone. There was Carmilla, fast asleep, lying on her back in the early morning light. The sheets were tangled around her waist, and her head was tilted just to the side, revealing that noble nose and high cheekbones. Laura loved the picture, cherished it even, but it hurt to look at Carmilla like that – in her bed, so vulnerable, so _hers_. And now the vampire was half way around the world and Laura was here, trying to put her life back together, trying to convince this university that her credits from Silas were transferable, that siege tactics had been an introduction to medieval history course, that her journalism professor had been reputable, not a reanimated corpse.

 

Laura was trying, but as she gazed down at Carmilla’s image on her phone, eyeing the lines of her collarbones, the soft swell of her breasts, Laura knew that there was no new start for her. She was the girl with no pictures on her wall because her friends were dead. Because her hand was new. Because the woman she loved was far away. Because she had stepped into the darkness and never quite returned.

 

Lindsay sighed heavily, interrupting Laura’s thoughts and her new roommate seemed to take little notice of the deep frown and sad eyes looking up at her quizzically.

 

“Guys, right?” Lindsay said, hoisting her phone in the air with a shrug. Laura smiled tightly, and shrugged back. And with one final glance at the sleeping vampire in the light of her glowing phone, she stood up and walked away from her empty walls.

 

~*~

 

She vomited in a trash bin after her first English Literature class. The TA was short, and brunette, and not Danny, but her enthusiasm, the way she stood in front of the class beaming from ear to ear, the way she encouraged them to contact her should they need help, sent Laura’s stomach spinning. She could feel people staring at her, this girl puking her guts out in public after an introduction to nineteenth-century literature class. And she could feel her shame, her reddened cheeks, the tears in her eyes, the pain in her throat, and she hated it. She hated every single second of it. But most of all, she hates how badly she wished Carmilla was by her side, holding her hair, making jokes about the idiot freshmen or the inaccurate professor. She didn’t want to be so weak or so needy. She didn’t want her strength to come from Carmilla. So she stood up, washed her face in the bathroom, found a toothbrush, and carried on to her next class trying to ignore the temptation of sending a text across oceans that read _where are you?_

 

 Life became routine and routine made Laura feel safe. There were classes to attend, papers to write, the newspaper to edit, and she happily fell into the rhythm of college life. It was boring and she luxuriated in the boredom, trying not to smirk when her fellow students complained about their marks or the food in the cafeteria or the cranky librarians. Nothing was trying to kill her. Nothing was trying to chase her. She was just Laura Hollis, nineteen, journalism major. Who had an estranged vampire lover and a possible case of immortality. And a USB drive locked away in her childhood bedroom that contained all the evidence that not so long ago, she had fought satanic evil and lost everything.

 

Every weekend she would drive home in the little car her dad had proudly given her on the day she left for college. She had used it to drive Carmilla to the airport and then she had used it to cry secretly in the parking lot. Sometimes she could forget that her life had erupted in flames, that her friends had all died, that she knew what it looked like when a human brain was violently ripped through the shell of a shattered skull. She even tried talking to the people in her classes, not to make friends, she was not ready for that, but just to feel as though maybe the world could someday turn itself right again. They were friendly and curious and once in a while they even made her laugh. It took her by surprise every time, the sound coming out of her mouth, and then images of LaF or Perry or Kirsch would fill her thoughts and she stopped laughing and tried not to scream.

 

At the end of September she found herself at a frat party, sitting on a torn leather couch, wondering how the hell this had all happened. Lindsay had asked her to come, but Lindsay sounded like Betty except Betty was never her friend, not really. And the frat boys were shouting for pizza and Will was in the crowd and she could hear Kirsch and…

 

“You okay, Laura?”

 

It took her a moment to place the voice, but looking up from her fourth beer of the night, Laura found herself sitting beside a girl from her English class.

 

“Um, yah, fine…”

 

“It’s Kate,” the pretty stranger said, smiling kindly at Laura.

 

“Yes, Kate! Sorry! I’m terrible with names!” It was a lie. She was good with names. Except not on this night, not when Kirsch was yelling in the kitchen and Danny was…

 

Laura swallowed hard. “Some party, hey?”

 

“Sure,” Kate was smiling at her strangely and Laura wished that she had stopped at two beers because the smile was distracting. It was nice, maybe too nice, and this girl looked like Kerry Washington, if Kerry Washington wore cardigans, and hipster glasses, and purple nail polish. Kate’s arm seemed to be slowly moving across the back of the couch and Laura could feel herself break out into a cold sweat. Because Danny was across the room and Danny was outside and Danny was…

 

She knew Carmilla was there before she even had a chance to turn around and see with her own two eyes. Something changed in the air, a strange hum and whispers of _who’s that_? Laura could hear her own heart thundering in her chest as every part of her screamed to stand up, find her, _she’s here, she’s here, she’s here_.

 

Instead, she politely made her excuses to Kate, set down her beer, and made her way to the front door. The vampire was standing in the entranceway, dressed in tight leather pants and a corset that made Laura’s mouth water. The light of a streetlamp lit her from behind, casting her face in shadow, but Laura could still make out those eyes and the flash of white teeth, peeking out from a growing smirk. With three fast strides Laura had crossed the space and thrown herself into Carmilla’s arms, burying her face in the wavy, dark curls framing her shoulders.

 

“Hey, cutie,” was all the vampire said as Laura squeezed her arms around Carmilla’s middle. They breathed each other in, forgetting for a moment that they were standing in the midst of a rowdy college party, and Laura’s fingers found the smooth skin where the corset revealed an unfairly cute bellybutton and shapely hipbones. Carmilla’s arm was wrapped firmly around her shoulders and with her free hand she stroked Laura’s hair.

 

“You feel warm,” she whispered and Laura shook her head, refusing to remove her face from Carmilla’s shoulder.

 

“Laura, you’re shaking.” Carmilla made a move to lift Laura’s face, to check her eyes, but before she could, a low whistle interrupted their moment.

 

“Damn, Hollis! Who’s your friend?”

 

Laura heard the low growl in Carmilla’s throat and decided to put a stop to any potential homicide that may result from an idiot frat boy saying the wrong thing to the wrong vampire.

 

“We’re just going, Evan…”

 

“Awww, you don’t have to!” he said, calling over a few of his pals with a swing of one arm. “Check it out, Hollis brought Elvira to our party!”

 

Her entire body tensed, her lungs failed, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe because Danny was…Danny was…

 

A strong arm was suddenly around her waist and she could feel her feet lift slightly off the ground. Carmilla was half carrying, half dragging her outside, and within seconds, she found herself standing on the abandoned lawn of the house, staring into the very worried eyes of the woman before her.

 

“Breathe, Laura, come on.” Carmilla’s hands were in her hair, brushing it away from her face and Laura reached out, fingering the material of the vampire’s corset, her shoulders, her chin, anything to ground herself in the moment. Danny was dead. And Carmilla was here with her.

 

“Sorry,” she managed to spit out, blinking under the bright light from the streetlamp. Carmilla smiled softly, wrapping her arms around Laura’s hips and swaying them slightly.

 

“It’s okay, Cupcake.”

 

“Are we dancing?” Laura giggled, finding her arms around Carmilla’s shoulders. Seconds ago she had been ready to scream and now she felt safe again. It was frightening, how much better she felt with Carmilla near. And that, in turn, made her anxious all over again. But Carmilla was holding her close and she was finally back from wherever she had been. Laura didn’t want to think about anything else.

 

“A little waltzing never hurt anyone,” Carmilla answered, though the dark look in her eyes told quite a different story. She leaned in then, pressing her lips next to Laura’s ear.

 

“Let me take you somewhere,” she whispered, sending a shiver down Laura’s spine. “I bought us something in Amsterdam.”

 

Laura gulped and let Carmilla guide her away from the lights and into the darkness.

 

~*~

 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected when Carmilla led her to the top floor of a fairly swanky hotel, but it certainly was not this. Whatever _this_ was.

 

Laura lay prone on the bed, watching in awe as Carmilla rode her, pale body gleaming with sweat as she moved up and down on her knees. With each thrust, Laura felt the slightest pull against her clit as the strap-on brushed against her, but it was not enough, not nearly enough, and she wished Carmilla would let her move, would let her do anything because every time she reached for pale thighs or breasts, Carmilla slapped her hands away, forcing them down onto the mattress. At first Laura had thought it was a game, but quickly, it seemed that Carmilla was far away in her own head while Laura provided something for her to fuck. And Laura was not sure how to feel about it. Especially as the vampire reached down with one hand to rub her own clit, while the other cupped her breast, forcing a sigh from her lips.

 

“Carm, I could…” Laura awkwardly reached up, trying to do anything but just lie there, but Carmilla shook her head, bracing herself with one hand on Laura’s stomach as she continued stroking between her legs. With each thrust, Laura watched as those small breasts shook, as her breathing became laboured, and all she wanted to do was sit up, move her hips, hold the shaking woman in her arms. Instead, Carmilla pushed harder against her belly and almost violently pushed herself down against the strap-on.

 

“Just…I’m almost…” she growled, and then with one final thrust, her body tensed and she finished. Laura desperately wanted to reach for her, to kiss her, to touch her, but while Carmilla tipped back her head in a silent scream, her free hand held Laura’s fist to the bed sheets. And then she was gracefully climbing off Laura’s lap, pushing the messy hair from her eyes and walking naked to the other side of the room. All Laura could do was watch in confusion as the vampire reached for a discarded white robe on the floor on the way to the room’s mini bar.

 

“I needed that,” Carmilla sighed distractedly as she cracked open a bottle of water. Laura felt increasingly uncomfortable by the situation and not just because of the dull throb between her legs. Carmilla was a considerate lover, she treated Laura’s body with reverence, but this? Nothing about this felt right and Laura suddenly felt a wave of nausea as she looked down at the glistening appendage between her legs. She wanted it gone, and she fumbled with the straps, trying not to let her hands shakes as she freed herself.

 

For her part, Carmilla seemed oblivious, although it was hard to tell with her back turned. Laura sat up and pulled the sheets around her, covering her chest in some lame attempt not to feel so exposed, so vulnerable. She hated how Carmilla had this power over her. She hated that she had spent so long missing her and pining for her and feeling like nothing in her universe would ever be right unless Carmilla held her once more.

 

“What was that?” she asked, finally finding her voice. Carmilla turned then, shooting her a disinterested glance as she held out the water bottle.

 

“Water?”

 

“Carmilla, what the hell was that?”

 

The vampire languidly shrugged, staying on her side of the room and her apathy made Laura feel increasingly worse about whatever it was that just happened between them. She clutched the sheet even closer to her chest, wishing she were dressed, or not in the bed, or anywhere but this hotel room.

 

“Did you…did you fly all this way for a booty call, is that what I am to you now?” Laura let the anger in her belly rise; it felt better than letting her fear and sadness take over. Anger made her feel strong and she did not want to give Carmilla any more power.

 

“Creampuff…”

 

“No! No ‘Creampuff,’ or ‘Cutie,’ that wasn’t okay, Carmilla. Not at all,” she said, raising her voice with each word.

 

For her part, Carmilla refused to look at her, instead finding sudden interest in the half empty water bottle she had set on the bar counter.

 

“You were sweet as pie at that party, and then you brought me here and took off my clothes and strapped me in and what? You lost interest? Found someone more interesting wherever the hell you were?” Carmilla clenched her fists and turned away, but Laura could not stop yelling. It felt cathartic. After so much time apart, after so much silence, breathing fire felt like the first brave thing she had done in far too long.

 

“What, you just needed a quick fuck and little Laura is stupid enough to let you do whatever you want?” she ranted, missing the deep frown settling over Carmilla’s features.

 

“Laura…”

 

“No! I get to…”

 

“I found you practically sitting on another woman, Laura, you’re hardly one to talk,” Carmilla sneered, furiously turning her back and leaving Laura fuming on the bed. It felt like a hard slap across the face, and Laura furiously fought off tears because she didn’t want to give that to Carmilla, not a single tear, not after what she had just said.

 

“How could you even say that to me?” she yelled, tightening her hold on the sheet. “I’ve been sitting around, waiting for you, wondering where you are…if you’re okay, and you just show up here without a word and…”

 

It hit Laura then that nothing about this was right. That something was very wrong. And she swallowed her words, staring at Carmilla’s back, trying to put it all together. The realization was sudden and sharp and for the second time that night, she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

 

“You found something,” she whispered, willing her voice not to shake. “You found something about me, my hand or the sword, and it’s bad…it’s really bad…”

 

Carmilla lowered her head and her tangled hair hid her face. It made the distance between them feel impossibly wider and Laura wished her heart would stop pounding so loudly because it was making it difficult to think at all.

 

“You have to tell me, Carm, you said…you said it was _my_ life, that I was free, and if you found something you…”

 

“I didn’t find _anything_!” Carmilla bellowed, slamming her fist down hard on the bar top. The marble slab shattered and she barked in pain before spinning around to face Laura. She was furious, her eyes tortured and Laura didn’t know whether to hide under the covers or leap towards the shaking woman before her and cradle that bleeding hand between her own.

 

“I searched and I searched,” Carmilla moaned, shaking her head in dismay. “I tried. I tried so hard and there was _nothing_. Nothing!”

 

“And, what? You thought you’d just come back here and pretend like you didn’t want me? Or need me? Or…are you leaving for good?” Laura’s voice cracked on the last word, suddenly finding herself in a conversation she never wanted to have. Her words seemed to shock Carmilla, however, who looked at her as if she had punched her in the gut.

 

“What? No, how could you…”

 

“You made me feel dirty, Carmilla. You made me feel dirty and used.” Laura wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the sudden chill in the room. For her part, Carmilla’s shoulders slumped and Laura wasn’t sure if she had ever looked so defeated.

 

“I need to know, Laura,” she whispered. “Everything I have ever loved. Everything I have ever wanted has been lost to me. Because of Maman. Because of time. I need to know.”

 

“Carm, I told you… _for as long as I can_.”

 

And then Carmilla’s eyes filled with tears and she shook her head in despair, leaving Laura feeling an overwhelming urge to pull the vampire into her arms and promise that whatever it was, it would be okay. But she couldn’t do it. Not yet.

 

“I need to know how long that is, Laura, I need to prepare myself in case…”

 

It all made sense in that moment. Her unannounced return. The distance between them. The way she seemed to want Laura and shun Laura all at the same time. She was _scared_. And Laura understood because loving Carmilla? Wanting Carmilla? It was the greatest high and the greatest terror she had ever known.

 

“Come here,” Laura said softly, extending one hand, and Carmilla hesitantly walked to the side of the bed, dropping to her knees before Laura, but refusing to touch her. Laura lay a hand gently on Carmilla’s head, trying to give comfort without overwhelming her.

 

“I know it’s scary, I’m scared too,” she tried to find Carmilla’s eyes with her own, but the vampire was staring vacantly at the mattress. “But, Carm, you need to talk to me when you’re scared. We need to talk to each other, we’re not always good at that.”

 

Carmilla nodded once and then finally looked up, eyes still wet with tears. “You know I’m not good with this whole _feelings_ thing...” she tried to joke, which made Laura roll her eyes in exasperation. Of the two of them, only Carmilla was known to spout poetry at the drop of a hat. The vampire kept her hands in her lap, despite the lifting weight between them, and suddenly Laura realized that she was waiting for permission to reach out.

 

“You can touch me, Carm.”

 

“I’m not sure that I have any right to, after what just happened,” her voice shook and Laura sighed heavily, wondering how they had found themselves in his moment.

 

“That’s my decision and I say that you can touch me. Because I want you to touch me. Sometimes I never want you to stop touching me…” she said softly, humming happily when Carmilla finally ran her fingers through her hair and down her face. The touch was reverent as it always was and for the first time all night, Laura felt like her Carmilla had returned.

 

“I do love you, you know,” the vampire said, thumbs brushing Laura’s cheekbones. “It makes me do stupid things sometimes, but I do love you.”

 

Laura reached up for the hand on her face and pressed it to her cheek, turning to kiss the palm. Carmilla’s left hand was still red from where she had smashed it against the bar, and Laura held it gently, trying to ease away the pain.

 

“You are my beating heart, Laura, and I do not know whether that makes me weak or strong,” Carmilla whispered then, pressing her forehead against Laura’s.

 

“Not good with _feelings_ , hey?” Laura laughed as they both breathed each other in. Carmilla rewarded her with a bashful smile as they held each other close.

 

“I love you, Carmilla. Even though you drive me crazy, I love you,” Laura said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Carmilla’s lips. The vampire moaned softly into the kiss, tangling her fingers in Laura’s hair.

 

“Let me show you how I feel,” Carmilla whispered against Laura’s lips, pulling their joined hands towards her chest. And Laura could only nod and fall into Carmilla’s arms.

 

~*~

 

It felt like déjà vu as Carmilla led her into the shower. Laura tried not to focus on the last time they shared a similar space. She tried to ignore the tingling in her right hand and the image of rotting flesh and Carmilla’s tears. Instead, she let herself gaze at Carmilla, the pale skin, the elegant curve of her bones, the tantalizing dark curls between her legs. It was easy to forget their last shared shower, when this shower promised to be something entirely different.

 

They stood together under the spray and although Laura wanted desperately to touch Carmilla, she knew the vampire had plans for her. She was gently scrubbing her hair, peppering Laura’s shoulders and back with soft kisses and Laura let her, needing the gentle fingers after their earlier argument. She understood Carmilla’s behaviour now, her fear and the distance she tried to force between them lest that fear consume her. But the feeling of Carmilla holding her, washing her hair, loving her, eased the earlier tension. Carmilla was here, with her, and they were together. Laura was not going to waste a second of it thinking of the past.

 

Carmilla gently pushed her against the tiled wall, ensuring that the warm spray of the shower was still close enough so that the cool granite did not chill Laura’s delicate skin. She held her close for a moment, lining up their hips, pressing their breasts together, and they both signed happily, content with the feeling of being reunited after so long.

 

“I thought of you often,” Carmilla said, softly kissing Laura’s jaw and then down, finding her pulse point with greedy lips. Laura happily leaned her head back, letting Carmilla’s trail hot kisses down her throat and across her collarbones.

 

“I thought of you in dusty libraries and cobbled streets. I could not stop thinking about you,” Carmilla’s confession made Laura’s stomach swoop and she felt that familiar pull that only the vampire could elicit from her body.

 

“About the way you smell,” Carmilla punctuated her point by dragging her nose down the column of Laura’s neck. She inhaled deeply and then raised her head, licking her way across Laura’s lips.

 

“The way you taste,” she mumbled, biting down on Laura’s lip and Laura gasped softly, already feeling lightheaded with arousal. Carmilla had barely touched her.

 

“The way you feel in my hands,” two cold palms pressed against Laura’s breasts, thumbs flicking her nipples. And then Carmilla leaned her head forward, pressing her face into Laura’s chest, breathing in deeply.

 

“You feel so good, Laura. So impossibly good. I thought I would die again just from wanting you.” The hands on her chest reached lower, stroking gently down Laura’s ribcage and across her hips until they hovered just below her naval.

 

Laura leaned forward then, curling her tongue into Carmilla’s mouth, needing to taste her words if only for a moment. Carmilla kissed her back languidly, reaching down with one hand to tug lightly and the trimmed curls she found there. It made Laura moan against Carmilla’s mouth and the vampire leaned back slightly, keeping their bodies so close that with each exhale, Laura’s chest brushed against Carmilla’s in a perfectly timed dance. Carmilla kept one hand between Laura’s legs, spreading her open, and with the other she reached behind her, but Laura was still too focused on the red lips against her own to notice. She heard the sound of a second faucet, its spray pulsing and strong, and seconds later she jumped as the water hit her clit. The heavy stream surprised her at first and she squirmed, but soon settled with her arms loosely around Carmilla’s shoulders. The water suddenly hit her _just_ right and her jaw dropped, she was breathing harshly already as Carmilla helped to spread her legs and keep her steady.

 

“I love how you swell for me,” the vampire whispered as Laura moaned loudly, feeling herself clench as the water continued its relentless pounding.

 

“Do you know I can hear it? The blood rushing between your legs? I can hear it so clearly, Laura,” Carmilla’s voice was ragged and Laura could only release a strangled sigh in response, trying to keep her eyes open, but failing as Carmilla’s words and the force against her clit made her light headed. With a soft growl, the vampire stepped even closer so that only the showerhead separated them. Laura’s whole world became Carmilla, all she could feel was Carmilla, and it felt safe and warm. It felt like she was home.

 

“I want to be inside of you,” Carmilla was saying and Laura could only nod and then writhe against the body pressed to hers when two slender fingers pushed into her.

 

“Carm…”

 

“Sacred,” the vampire moaned, gently easing in and out of Laura, and then thrusting roughly, sending Laura’s eyes rolling to the back of her head.

 

Laura was having trouble breathing and standing and doing much of anything but feeling the water and Carmilla’s curling fingers and her cool skin blanketing everything at the same time. She tried to balance herself against Carmilla’s shoulders, but the constant motion between her legs made her dizzy and only Carmilla’s body was keeping her from falling down.

 

“Carm,” she gasped again, unsure of how much longer she could hold on.

 

“Look at me, Laura,” came Carmilla’s voice and somehow, Laura managed to open her eyes and look at the woman thrusting in and out of her with increasingly hurried movements. Carmilla offered a roguish grin and then her fangs descended and once again, Laura felt her jaw drop.

 

“Look what you do to me,” she said and Laura’s hips bucked wildly, as she leaned forward, running her tongue from the base of Carmilla’s throat and up. Carmilla’s thumb was suddenly pressing against her clit, adding impossibly more pressure to the steady stream from the showerhead and Laura wondered if her heart could take much more. Still smiling, Carmilla kissed her, letting Laura gently tongue each fang before she whispered against a panting mouth, “Let go, Laura.”

 

And Laura obeyed. Trusting that Carmilla would catch her. Like she always did.  

 

~*~

 

She was vaguely aware that she was being carried. Her legs hung loosely around Carmilla’s hips and the vampire had a firm arm under her and around her back. Laura’s head still felt foggy, but she leaned her face down into Carmilla’s shoulder and let herself be gently taken from the steamy bathroom towards the bed, where she was then carefully laid amongst plush, white sheets and tucked in. Carmilla crawled in beside her and Laura immediately rolled over, finding the vampire’s shoulder again, and tracing the silver scars along her rib cage with one hand.

 

“Hey,” she mumbled, fighting exhaustion and the blissed out feeling from their earlier shower.

 

“Hey,” Carmilla answer back, pressing a kiss to Laura’s forehead.

 

“Carm?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Tell me a story,” Laura draped one leg over Carmilla’s hips, loving the feel of being held so tightly against the perpetually cool body next to hers. She was so tired, too tired to move, but she didn’t want to fall asleep, not yet, not when she knew that Carmilla would leave again in the morning.

 

“I have not been asked to tell a story in a very long time,” Carmilla’s voice sounded distant and the shoulder beneath Laura’s cheek tensed slightly. Laura continued tracing the scars, dragging her fingers between Carmilla’s small breasts to caress the killing blow.

 

“Who asked the last time?”

 

“Maybe that can be the story, Cupcake?” Carmilla smiled softly, bumping Laura with her hip under the covers. The movement brushed Laura’s still sore clit and she yelped softly, earning a little laugh from Carmilla.

 

“Mean, vampire,” Laura chided, nipping a pale shoulder softly with her teeth before settling down again. Carmilla wrapped both arms tightly around Laura and began speaking, her voice so soft and so low that Laura was instantly transported away.

 

“A long time ago, when I was human, I had two brothers,” she said wistfully and somehow Laura knew this story would not be a happy one. “Gustav was so much like father, big and boisterous, always wanting to be outside with his dogs and his toy soldiers. I was the eldest, much to father’s disappointment, but Gustav was his heir and his favourite.”

 

Carmilla ran her fingers along Laura’s arm while her other hand held her close as she continued.

 

“But Leopold, the youngest, Leopold was _mein kleines kind_ , my little child.” The way she spoke his name sent shivers down Laura’s spine. It was spoken with such reverence, such heartbreakingly evident love, that all Laura could do was press a kiss to Carmilla’s chest and hope that it offered some comfort, some acknowledgment that it was safe to share Leopold and whatever story she had to tell.

 

“He was such a serious boy, dark hair and dark eyes. He never cried, even as a baby, but he would frown, always, always frowning,” she laughed and Laura could picture him so clearly, the little frowning boy who shared his sister’s eyes.

 

“I was much older than him and perhaps I spoiled him, but from the day he was born he was mine. More than my mother’s or my father’s, Leopold looked at me and I looked at him and we belonged to each other.”

 

“He had the devil in him, though,” she laughed, that rare, beautiful sound, and Laura revelled in it while it lasted. “Such mischief. He would steal food from the kitchen or lie to his nurse-maid and when mother would come to punish him, he would frown and call for me and blame Gustav!”

 

“But what Leopold loved more than anything was books,” Carmilla said, making Laura’s heart hurt at the memory of her beloved vampire, stretched out on beds or awkwardly in chairs, constantly reading regardless of who or what was in the room with her.

 

“Each night he would wait for his nurse-maid to leave and then he would sneak into my room. The little imp! His nightshirt was always too big on him, he would practically trip as he ran to my bed. Of course I’d chide him for being awake so late in the night, but that little frowning face…I could never say no.”

 

She painted a beautiful picture and Laura could almost imagine the two of them, matching eyes and matching hair, Mircalla’s indulgent smile as her little one appeared in the doorway of a candlelit room. It was precious. And it shattered Laura’s heart.

 

“He would say _schwester, schwester_ , _read to me_ , and I would hold him in my arms and tell him tales of sea monsters and witches and ghosts, until he little eyelids drooped. He would always fight sleep, just like you,” she said, pressing a kiss to Laura’s forehead, “but I would say, _sleep now, liebling, you are safe with me_ and it would work like a spell. And then I would carry him back into his room and tuck him for the night. It was our little secret.”

 

Carmilla’s voice changed then and the almost wistful longing disappeared, replaced by a painful resignation that made Laura tighten her hold across the vampire’s chest, as if her body could shield Carmilla from ancient tragedy.

 

“After I was turned, after I escaped Vordenberg, I heard that a terrible sickness had ravaged the castle. Mother had died six months before and Gustav was taken in the night.”

 

Laura felt her eyes water, but Carmilla’s voice remained steady.

 

“When I heard that Leopold was ill, I was distraught. I begged Maman to let me see him, but she refused. Mattie helped me stow away and break into the castle…”

 

Carmilla was far away now, the fingers on Laura’s arm stilled and she turned her head to the side, lost in memory.

 

“His room smelled of sickness, it was suffocating, I wanted to open the window, but the chill would have made him worse. My little imp was so pale, paler than I, and he looked so small in the bed, my old bed…he was delirious with fever, but when he saw me he called out _schwester, schwester, read to me_ and so I crawled into bed, me, this monstrous, blood-soaked thing beside the sweetest light that ever lived…”

 

Laura propped her head up on her hand, looking down at Carmilla’s face. She reached up to brush away the tears running down the high cheekbones and waited for the inevitable end.

 

“I crawled in beside him and he called me his angel, and perhaps I was, the angel of death, for as I read to him that night, his breathing became lighter and lighter,” her voice cracked and she subconsciously reached up for Laura’s hand, holding it tightly between her breasts where the old scar would never fade.

 

“As the sun rose I whispered to him, _sleep now liebling, you are safe with me_ , and just as always he closed his eyes and slept in my arms. Never to wake again.”

 

“Carm…” Laura began and the vampire turned her head suddenly, brow furrowed, as if she was surprised to find anyone beside her.

 

“I begged Maman to let me change him,” she explained, unwilling to look Laura in the eye, “but she said it would be cruel to change a child and she was right. He deserved more than the darkness I could have given him. Still, I miss my little one from time to time…”

 

Laura leaned down to kiss two wet cheeks, first one than the other, and then she pressed the softest kiss to Carmilla’s lips as she sought the vampire’s eyes with her own, hoping that what she was about to say would ease some of Carmilla’s pain.

 

“You are so loved,” Laura said, stroking Carmilla’s cheek with her thumb and she was rewarded with a watery grin and two arms holding her close, inviting her to sleep on a cool, soft shoulder for the rest of the night. As Laura drifted off, her mind full of Mircalla and Leopold and candlelight, she imagined she heard Carmilla whisper something against her hair. It was so quiet and she was so tired that she couldn’t be sure, but as she finally stopped fighting her exhaustion, Carmilla held her impossibly closer and seemed to say so gently, “sleep now, _liebling_ , you are safe with me.”

 

So Laura slept. Feeling safe in Carmilla’s arms. And knowing that the woman beside her would not be there in the morning.

 

~*~

 

It was not quite two weeks later when Laura woke up to the smell of smoke and iron and chocolate in her dorm room. Wearily she opened her eyes, adjusting to the darkness, and turned over to find herself face to face with Carmilla. She frowned slightly, wondering if she was dreaming, but them Carmilla was climbing over her on the small, single bed, sitting on her knees and pulling off her black t-shirt.

 

“Carm!” Laura hissed, chancing a glance at the other side of the room where Lindsay seemed to be sleeping soundly.

 

Carmilla said nothing as she tossed her shirt on the floor, followed by her bra, and then reached for Laura’s white tank top.

 

“Carm!” Laura tried again, finding herself suddenly naked from the waist up. Carmilla looked so pale in the moonlight and Laura was completely discombobulated by her sudden appearance and the even more sudden loss of her clothing.

 

“Carm, we can’t!” she whispered as Carmilla leaned down, but instead of kissing her, the vampire pressed her cheek to Laura’s breastbone and _purred_. For a moment she seemed to be rubbing her cheek against Laura’s skin and then she lay down, half on top of the warm body beneath her, burrowing herself against Laura’s chest and breasts and stomach in what felt like an attempt to get impossibly close.

 

Laura frowned at this, reaching up to wrap one arm around Carmilla’s back and the other around her head, holding the vampire against her chest.

 

“You okay?” she asking in the darkness and Carmilla shrugged slightly, brushing her cold nose along Laura’s collarbone. In the moonlight, Laura could just make out an angry bruise staining Carmilla’s ribcage and she carefully reached down with her hand to touch it.

 

“Did someone hurt you?”

 

When Carmilla did not answer, Laura gently pinched her arm.

 

“Hey, talk to me.”

 

Carmilla’s eyes were closed as she continued to press herself against Laura and it took a moment or two before she finally relaxed into their embrace.

 

“Books,” she mumbled against Laura’s skin, her voice rough with sleep.

 

“Oh, Carm, what have I told you about sentient libraries?”

 

Carmilla shrugged again, her body heavy on top of Laura as she continued rubbing her cheek against the smooth, warm contours of Laura’s chest.

 

“My silly vampire,” Laura kissed the head of dark curls beneath her chin and was about to question why Carmilla had suddenly appeared in her dorm room when the vampire stilled, her face wedged low on Laura’s chest. And then she felt it, the steady tap of Carmilla’s fingers against her hip and she knew. Carmilla’s was listening to her heart, tracking its steady rhythm, and soothing herself to its beat.

 

“I missed you,” Carmilla confessed, fingers never stopping their movement against her. All Laura could do was hold her close and raise the blankets to keep them both warm. She watched Carmilla sleep for a time feeling infinitely grateful for the woman in her arms.

 

~*~

 

Laura was not surprised to wake up alone. She knew Carmilla could not stay, not when there were libraries to battle and books to read and secrets to uncover. But she was surprised to find a small package under her pillow, its black wrapping paper crinkled and torn. Inside Laura found a thin gold necklace with a single charm; a panther skull that shown brilliantly in the early morning light. Beside the gift there was a card with her name written in Carmilla’s elegant script on the outside. She opened it and smiled at the inscription, raising the golden skull to her lips.

 

_Forever_

-       _C_

 

The next day Laura marched herself to the library and printed a stack of photographs from her laptop. She spent the rest of the afternoon decorating her side of the room until by evening, the wall beside her bed was covered in familiar faces. LaF and Perry showered in flour, laughing at a secret joke between them. Danny, bold and brave, her bow in hand, standing impossibly tall on the Silas quad. Kirsch in a toga, mouth open mid-speech, waving at her with a beer in hand. Her mother, holding her. Her father, on the day she was born. And Carmilla. Everywhere Carmilla. Carmilla reading. Carmilla frowning. Carmilla caught in a rare smile. And next to her bed, hidden away from prying eyes, Carmilla sleeping, naked, vulnerable, and _hers_.

 

That night when Lindsay returned from classes she eyed the wall with mild interest and asked, “who are they?” And Laura’s voice did not waver when she smiled and replied, “my family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the Duct Tape Squad.
> 
> Big thanks for all the support, but now a request from my needy soul. While I adore kudos (I truly do), reading your comments is the highlight of my day. If you like what you're reading, or you don't like what you're reading (gulp!), let me know in the comments. Honestly, they mean the world!
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr: @wrackwonder


	5. Chapter 5

Laura never meant to investigate Silas. At least that’s what she told herself when everything blew up in her face.

 

It had all started innocently with an assignment for her journalism class. The assignment itself wasn’t the problem, it was the access she suddenly had to a wealth of online databases. And the steady diet of coffee and Red Bull.

 

Late one night in the darkness of her dorm room, Laura found herself staring at the blinking cursor of a search box. There were thing she wanted to know; things she _had_ to know. The bodies and the school and…she shivered at the memories, reaching for the panther skull around her neck and wondering briefly about Carmilla. Carmilla, who hadn’t texted her in weeks. But her curiosity overpowered the small voice in her head screaming _stop stop stop stop_. And her heartache over Carmilla silenced that voice until it was no more than a barely perceptible hiss.

 

Which led to her typing in “Silas University.” And waiting.

 

The next morning she showed up to her group meeting with dark circles under her eyes and a list of possible topics that needed further research. And when her fellow students departed for the day, Laura stayed in the library with her laptop, feverishly digging deeper and deeper into the mystery of Silas.

 

A week passed and with it, numerous classes that she chose to skip. Because this was important. This was meaningful. She stopped checking her phone, she rarely made it back to her room each night, and she replaced the somewhat healthy cafeteria food with the contents of the library’s vending machines. _This_ felt familiar and good and she was alive again. Because there was a cover-up. And someone was going to pay. And Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence deserved…

 

Danny was screaming and Danny was on fire and Danny’s splintered teeth hit Laura’s cheek as they erupted from her mouth and Danny…

 

“Hey, you still here?”

 

Laura blinked rapidly, swallowing hard before turning away from the laptop to search out whoever interrupted her. It was Kate and Laura rubbed her eyes, trying to shoot the other woman a reassuring smile, but feeling as if her features had moulded into a grimace at the sight of the girl from her English class. For her part, Kate didn’t seem to notice, as she shyly smiled at Laura and jammed her hands in the pockets of her black skinny jeans.

 

“Mind if I…” she pointed to the chair next to Laura and it all seemed to be happening under water because Kate was here, but Silas was here, and where was…

 

“Oh, yah, sure!” Laura winced as her voice sounded far too cheery for two in the morning, but Kate was nice and it couldn’t hurt to try to make a friend. Maybe.

They shared a few seconds of awkward silence before Kate laughed lightly and Laura joined her.

 

“Sorry, I’m not usually this weird,” Kate said and Laura shook her head, patting the woman beside her lightly on the shoulder.

 

“Trust me, I’m _always_ this weird.”

 

It broke the ice and Kate smiled again. It made Laura feel good. To make someone smile. To share a joke. Even if it was two in the morning and she was sitting in a library researching body disposal at an obscure Austrian school.

 

“So, exam?” Kate was trying to catch a glimpse of Laura’s laptop, which thankfully currently featured a page of financial exchanges between a mysterious corporation and an Austrian bank.

 

“Um, journalism project, actually,” Laura replied, trying to keep her voice steady. It wasn’t a lie, not really, except that her journalism project had been due three days ago and she had completed it a week in advance. Still, her current research was partially inspired by her journalism class so, technically, it _was_ still a journalism project. Laura felt suddenly warm and hoped Kate didn’t notice the light sheen of sweat across her forehead.

 

“Oh, cool. Is that German?”

 

Sitting this close, Laura really was struck by the Kerry Washington resemblance. Kate was like a hipster Olivia Pope, without all the yelling and drama. She was beautiful, and it felt odd for Laura to think that about another person, but here she was at two in the morning, exhausted, partially high on energy drinks, and wanting desperately to open up to this virtual stranger. She had sat in silence for so long and Carmilla was so far away, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let someone in, to start a friendship, to share a little something of herself.

 

“My old school, Silas…it was in Austria, um, there was an accident,” Laura explained, hitting tab to show Kate a picture of the Lustig Building before the destruction. “And I think there was a cover-up, so I decided to look into it…”

 

_All of my friends died before my very eyes. The woman I love is a vampire and she keeps running away. I don’t know where she is.  I’m trying to find out who destroyed the campus after we fled. I can still taste Danny’s ashes in my mouth. There’s a very good chance I may live forever. And sometimes I want that more than anything. And sometimes I don’t want that at all. And I don’t know what that says about me._

 

Kate furrowed her brow, leaning in closer to get a better look at Laura’s laptop. She smelled good, like vanilla and fresh air, and when she leaned back, her smile lit up her entire face. Laura could tell that she was someone who smiled often.

 

“That’s pretty badass, Laura,” she said, playfully shoving Laura’s arm.

 

“Yah?”

 

“Totally. A government cover-up? Do you want some help?”

 

Logically, Laura knew she needed to say no. Silas was dangerous, even though it was gone, even though everyone was dead, Silas was still something that needed to be kept hidden and secret and away from the innocent. And Kate was innocent. Except, Laura was tired of the endless silence that surrounded her past and she liked the way Kate’s eyes lit up at the prospect of investigating something with potentially international ramifications.

 

With an enthusiastic wiggle in her seat, Laura said, “yes!” and proceeded to fill Kate in on _some_ of the details. Not the part about the fish god or the murders or the rotting fingers. Not the part about how she hated going to bed because Carmilla had screamed in agony so loudly that she could not be rid of the sound. Not that part. Never that part.

 

Even while she chatted well into the night about the Austrian media and its problematic censorship laws, she knew on a cellular level that this was a big mistake. Except Kate’s enthusiasm reminded her so much of LaF. And Kate’s eagerness reminded her so much of Kirsch. And Kate’s intelligence reminded her so much of Danny.

 

And she was so very tired of being all alone.

 

~*~

 

One week turned into two and before she knew it, Laura had set up a permanent research base with Kate in the library. Their desk was covered in coffee cups and take-out containers and each night they would stay awake until the early hours digging into Silas and the supposed gas leak that levelled it to the ground.

 

For Laura, every hour spent focusing on Silas was an hour she didn’t have to think about when Carmilla would contact her next or the way her finger had healed immediately after a particularly nasty paper cut. The idea of going back to her dorm, of going to class, of doing anything but investigating became overwhelming. She had to keep going, she had to find answers, she owed it to her friends and to herself. The fact that Kate was there beside her to occasionally argue about _Doctor Who_? It made Laura feel like she was nineteen and at college and experiencing life the way she had always wanted it to be.

 

Kate liked to focus on the Austrian newspapers. It let her practice her German, she claimed, and Laura didn’t notice how Kate would lean over their desk, as close as she could, to ask Laura for help translating the relatively simple phrases. Instead, Laura started digging into something else, something slightly more complicated than speculation from the Austrian press. She knew this was pushing her project further than it needed to go. She knew this was potentially illegal. But there was one last piece of the Silas puzzle that she needed to uncover. The way Carmilla had said…

 

“What are you doing?” it felt as though Kate was always breaking into her thoughts and Laura turned to her right, surprised to find the always-smiling woman frowning deeply as her dark eyes stared at Laura’s laptop screen.

 

“Research, you know, same as always,” Laura said, trying to sound chipper at three in the morning.

 

“When is this thing due, by the way?” Kate still looked suspicious and she was leaning in even closer, reading the database entries that Laura was starting to feel should be kept absolutely secret.

 

“Umm…it’s not really that kind of project?”

 

Kate’s frown deepened as her eyes darted from Laura to the screen and back again.

 

“Wait, are those medical records?”

 

“Okay, but…”

 

“Laura, what the hell?” her new friend stood up abruptly, knocking over a tower of empty coffee cups with the motion. She immediately wrapped her arms around herself and Laura realized in that moment that she truly had made a huge mistake.

 

“Listen, this is really complicated…”

 

“Complicated? You’re hacking into hospital records, Laura, what the hell is going on?”

 

Laura swallowed hard and found herself thinking that LaF would never behave like this. Then again, LaF died drowning in their own blood. Maybe they should have asked more questions when they had the chance.

 

“You were fine breaking into the government tax records!” The memory of LaF made her feel off balance and she felt the need to defend her own work. She was doing this for her friends. She was doing this for…

 

“Those were in the public domain! What are you really doing here? You owe me an explanation!”

 

“I _owe_ you? I don’t owe you anything!”

 

Kate clenched her fists and her eyes blazed in fury. “I’ve been hanging out with you for three weeks, Laura. I’ve missed classes. I thought you’d thank me or ask me for a coffee or something? But, what? You’ve just dragged me into something illegal and act like it’s not a big deal?”

 

“Wait…coffee?” Laura was at a loss. She could understand the illegal thing and the missed classes thing and even the three weeks thing. But…coffee?

 

Kate rolled her eyes in exasperation and shook her head, reaching up to adjust the purple beanie covering her hair.

 

“I thought you liked me, Laura. That’s why I thought you invited me here,” she said, gazing down at the worn library carpet in obvious embarrassment.

 

“I _do_ like you Kate, that’s why…”

 

“No, Laura, I thought you _liked_ me.”

 

Oh. _Oh_. Laura reached for the panther skull necklace around her neck and found herself shaking her head, feeling suddenly immensely guilty and immensely stupid. She tried to find the words, tried to sputter out something that would make this situation better, but there was really nothing she could do but be honest for the first time in weeks.

 

“Kate, I…I have a girlfriend.” It felt wrong to call Carmilla her girlfriend. Not when Carmilla had crawled her way into Laura’s skin and made a home there. Not when Laura ached for her every second she was away. Not when Laura’s definition of forever included Carmilla at her side.

 

“That goth chick from the party?” Kate shot her an incredulous look and Laura nodded silently, wishing this would all go away.

 

“You never talk about her so I just assumed…”

 

_I don’t know how to tell you that she is the oxygen I breathe. I don’t know how to tell you that her fingerprints are tattooed across my lungs. I don’t know how to tell you that her name is curled beneath my tongue. I don’t know how to tell you…_

 

“I’m sorry, Kate. I really am. I never meant…”

 

Kate turned then and walked out of the library leaving Laura alone at her desk. It was late, far too late for anyone to be awake, but she sat there wondering how it always came back to these moments. How she always missed things. And then she turned back to her screen, brushed a stray tear from her cheek, and decided that she needed to take this step. This illegal step. Because there was one more piece. One more piece…

 

She typed in the name and hit search.

 

~*~ 

 

The plan was fairly straightforward. Drive for five hours, stay for one, and then turn around and be back at home on time for Christmas Eve dinner. As Laura sat behind the wheel, watching the snow gently land on her windshield, she tried not to let the prickling dread change her mind. It was a good plan. A necessary plan. And she would be home in a few hours time. No one would know.

 

She had packed her bag the night before and set off early in the morning, long before sunrise. The roads were clear and the snow was still light, perfect conditions for a winter drive. Laura tried not to think about what she would find at the end of this journey, instead, she listened to the radio, some nameless Top 40 thing that was about a boy and a girl and she tried to bop along, tapping her fingers on the wheel as the sun slowly rose, painting the sky in pinks and reds and yellows. It was beautiful, so impossibly beautiful, and for only a second she let herself imagine that Carmilla was there beside her to see it. But Carmilla had been silent for weeks and Laura had a mission.

 

It was a relatively easy drive, she knew it would be, and with a front seat full of packaged cookies and a tank full of gas, Laura almost enjoyed herself. _Almost_. From the moment she preformed the database search the little voice in the back of her mind had been screaming for her to stop. But it was too late, she was doing this, she needed to do this. Or so she kept telling herself.

 

After five hours of driving, Laura was relieved to hear her GPS robotically inform her that her destination was close by. She had expected something gothic, something _Silas_ , but instead, the building was _normal_ : brown brick, Christmas lights, a cheery inflatable snowman at the front entrance. With a quick glance in the rear-view mirror to ensure her hair had not become completely unacceptable for public viewing, Laura stepped out of the car and followed the icy path to the front door.

 

Inside it was warm and surprisingly welcoming. A front desk greeted her, alongside a smiling nurse, and Laura found herself suddenly shy.

 

“Um, I’m here to see one of your patients?” she said, silently chastising herself when the sentence came out as a question, rather than a statement. The smiling nurse raised an eyebrow, but seemed to take pity on her. The trip was likely difficult for most people unfamiliar with the surroundings.

 

“Did you call ahead, dear?”

 

“Oh! Yes!” Laura found herself digging through her purse, trying desperately to find her drivers license or any form of picture ID. The nurse shot her an indulgent grin and barely glanced at the proffered card once Laura thrust it unceremoniously in the poor woman’s face. With a quick glance at her computer, the nurse nodded once and then pressed a button on her desk and Laura suddenly felt more and more nervous about what she was about to do. But there was no time to back out, not when a second nurse in a Mickey Mouse scrub top appeared and tapped Laura on the shoulder.

 

“This way,” she said and as Laura followed her down a short hallway, she concentrated on the smiley Mickeys and the stray wisps of blonde hair coming loose from the nurse’s off-centre ponytail. They passed by quiet rooms and it was nothing like Laura had expected. Nothing like the movies said it would be. The building was clean, its residents out of sight for the most part, and every corner seemed to be full of Christmas trees and wrapped gifts and fairy lights. It could almost be described as warm, if not for the bars on the windows, and the nursing staff, and the distinct scent of disinfectant in the air.

 

They made their way down a short flight of stairs and Laura suddenly found herself in an industrial kitchen. It was large and spacious, but empty, and the overhead lighting cast strange shadows on the stainless steel tables filling the room. In the midst of neatly stacked dishes and well organized cutlery stood a solitary figure, the ceiling lamp illuminating her features in an ethereal light. Laura tried not to remember…

 

“Lola,” an unseen voice from the corner startled Laura and a nurse stood, gently taking the woman in question by the elbow. Laura watched her in profile, the left side, and she looked like Perry. It _was_ Perry. Her hand was buried in a ball of dough and her face was so serene. But when the nurse tapped her, Perry turned to face Laura fully, and it took all that Laura had not to cry out in shock.

 

Her right arm was held closely to her body, the hand curled into a claw. Despite the sling that cradled the arm, Laura could tell just by the angle that the entire limb was paralyzed. She could remember the echoing crack of Perry’s body as the Dean let her go. She could remember the way Perry had fallen hard into the bloody ashes on the ground. She could remember…

 

Perry’s right eye was white, or maybe a pale blue, it was difficult to tell under the harsh florescent lighting. The eyelid and surrounding skin was red and scarred and when she looked up from the dough and into Laura’s face, it was all too clear that she could not see out of the destroyed pupil. Laura felt herself shaking, she felt herself wanting more than anything to turn around and walk away. But then Perry smiled at her, that same Perry smile, and some of the terror subsided.

 

“Laura?” she asked, voice high and light.

 

“Hey, Perry,” Laura answered taking a hesitant step forward. The nurse beside her seemed to disappear while the other nurse said, “Are you okay here, Lola?”

 

Perry nodded enthusiastically and the nurse followed her colleague up the stairs, but not before turning around to speak to Laura.

 

“If there’s any trouble,” she whispered lowly, “just push the red buzzer on the wall.”

 

Laura swallowed hard and nodded. Once they were alone, she moved to stand across from Perry, watching as the other girl methodically pounded the dough with her right hand.

 

“I’m making pizza,” she explained, nodding at her own words. “For the others. I always make the pizza.”

 

“That’s great, Per.” Laura said with less enthusiasm than she wanted. She looked around, noting the lack of any cooking supplies. The oven even had a padlock on its door and Laura clenched her jaw, trying not to tear up at the sight of Perry kneading the small ball of dough with one hand.

 

“Do you like it here?” she asked and Perry paused, tiling her head to the side in thought. The movement brought the right side of her face into clearer focus and Laura could see the red, mottled flesh under the icy blue eye. Had it been the Dean? Or had it been the fall? What had caused this? What could she do to fix it?

 

“Oh, yes, it’s very nice.” Perry broke her thoughts, shooting her a wide grin.

 

“Because, Per, if it’s _not_ nice, you can tell me.”

 

Something wasn’t right, Laura could feel it. Despite the pleasant building and the friendly nurses, Laura just knew that Perry needed help. And she was going to be the one to help her! She should have never left Silas without making sure she was okay. She should have never let Carmilla talk her out of leaving Perry behind. Perry needed rescuing and if she could distract the nurses and get her car…

 

“It’s very nice, Laura. It’s so nice. I get to make the pizza.” Perry’s cheerfulness was unnerving and Laura leaned over the table, wondering briefly if there were cameras monitoring the room.

 

“I’m going to get you out of here, Perry,” she whispered, “We’re going to make a plan, and Carmilla’s going to…”

 

Perry’s head flipped up at the sound of the vampire’s name. Her already pale face became impossibly whiter and she violently threw the dough in her hand onto the floor. Shaking her head with increasing speed she stomped her foot and her good eye bore into Laura’s gaze, bringing all words to a stop.

 

“No!” she yelled, slamming her fist onto the table. “No, don’t make me go outside! I won’t! I won’t do it!”

 

“Okay, sorry, Perry, you don’t…”

 

“NO!” Perry screamed, pressing her hand to her ear and shaking her head violent, trying to chase away some horrific memory. Laura tried to gently reach for her, to do anything, but Perry suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Laura’s arm in a death grip.

 

“It was real, wasn’t it?” she hissed, her blind eye glaring over Laura’s shoulder, as if she could see all the ghosts that clung to their skin. “I killed them all, I killed LaF and Danny and Kirsch, I killed them all.”

 

“Per, it wasn’t…”

 

“I wanted to kill _her_ too. I wanted to rip her throat out. I hear her screaming in my dreams and I love it, Laura, I _love_ it.” Perry’s fingers were bruising, and Laura wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t, not without hurting Perry and Perry had been hurt enough. Still, she too could hear Carmilla’s screams in the night and Perry’s voice and Perry’s spine and _Perry_ was too close, much too close.

 

“I wanted to kill her, not me, but I did, I _did_ ,” she whispered maniacally, her hand drifting from Laura’s arm to her throat where it loosely closed.

 

“Perry!” Laura curved her own hands around Perry’s wrist in an attempt to stop whatever violence was about to occur.

 

“ _Carmilla_ ,” it came out like a purr, like a sin, and Perry’s tongue curled around the vowels, tasting the name and it all made Laura want to vomit. “Not _my_ daughter, but _my_ daughter, and I wanted her. I wanted her, but _I_ didn’t…”

 

There were loud footsteps on the stairs, but Laura could only look on in horror. The Dean was dead. She knew the Dean was dead. But Perry remembered her, Perry remember enough that her words lived on, and when a nurse suddenly flew into her field of vision, Laura could see the change in Perry’s eye, the fear, the regret, and instantly she understood why her former floor don did not want to leave. She wasn’t scared of the outside world, she was scared of herself and what she may do once let loose.

 

“Lola!” the nurse’s arms were around Perry’s middle, pulling her back from the table, and with a strong tug, the girl crumpled in her caretaker’s arms, crying softly against an ample shoulder.

 

“I did it,” she moaned, “I killed LaFontaine! I killed them!”

 

Laura began slowly backing away, trying desperately to breathe, to keep moving, to get far away from the shattered woman on the floor.

 

“I don’t want to go!” Perry’s voice wailed as Laura quickly climbed the staircase. “I don’t want to go! Mommy said I didn’t have to go!”

 

It was the last thing Laura heard before she started to run. Past the nursing station and the Christmas trees and the piles of carefully wrapped gifts. She ran as fast as she could, away from that voice, away from the memory, away from the unseeing eye that saw all too much and the clawed hand and the screaming. She run until she was outside the doors, standing in the blowing snow, and feeling the icy wind pierce her lungs.

 

With shaking hands, she climbed into her frozen car, turned the key in the ignition…

 

And screamed.

 

~*~

 

Her father had always warned her against driving in poor conditions. There was a list of precautions to take as soon as she earned her driver’s license, but it wasn’t until this moment that Laura really appreciated his warnings. The snow was falling in heavy, white flakes and despite the poor visibility, the true danger was inside the car. She was shaking badly, trying desperately to catch her breath, and her eyes filled with tears despite her valiant attempts to keep them clear. The radio that had been a source of distraction on her journey to see Perry was now loud and obnoxious and she could not keep track of the lyrics or the melodies; it was all static noise.

 

She knew she should pull over on the side of the road, try to calm down and keep going, but she couldn’t. Not when her Dad was two hours away. If she could make it home, if she could make it to him, everything would be better. At least that’s what she told herself as she coughed from the exertion of taking each breath. There would be hot chocolate and Christmas specials and presents and her blanket. There would be her dad.

 

_Dad, Dad, Daddy make it go away._

 

Laura was determined and with only her stubborn will urging her forward, she kept driving despite the blowing flurries and her increasingly loud sobs. It seemed to take hours, but finally she turned onto a familiar street, just as the sun disappeared and night crawled over her neighbourhood. The house looked pleasant, like it always did, shining brightly with carefully strung Christmas lights. She tried to smile, she really did, but the static in her ears was making her dizzy and all she could do was park the car in the driveway, thrust the door open, and run towards her father. She nearly slipped on an icy patch, but finally she was there, fumbling with her keys in the door, and then she was inside and it was warm and it smelled like cinnamon and Perry needed to stop screaming…

 

“Dad?!” she called, her voice coming out strangled and hoarse from hours of crying. He appeared then, tall and broad, with that funny nose and kind eyes, and a hunter green sweater emblazoned with a flying reindeer.

 

“You drove in _that_?” Roger started, but Laura was suddenly pressing her face into his chest, squeezing him in a hard grip and the older man could only bark in laughter before patting her back.

 

“Missed you too, kiddo!”

 

She nodded against him, breathing him in, finding his presence enough to quell some of the chaos in her mind. And then he was pushing back lightly on her shoulders to look down on her and with a twinkle in his eye he said, “you have a visitor.”

 

Carmilla was leaning against the doorframe, all leather pants and wild hair and a smirk that would not quit. It was so startling to see her casually standing there, as if she had always been standing in _that_ hallway in _this_ house, that Laura let out a strangled laugh. And then she threw herself almost violently at the vampire, ignoring the startled nose from her father and Carmilla’s own “oomph!” in response to the sudden impact of Laura’s body hitting hers. She smelled the same, Laura knew she would, but it didn’t stop her from breathing in deeply, burying her nose in Carmilla’s neck and wrapping her arms tightly, too tightly, around a thin torso.

 

“Hey, Cutie…” Carmilla drawled, curling her arms around Laura’s shoulders, but the sound of that beloved voice seemed to making Laura’s anxiety all the worse and she began shaking, pressing her face impossibly closer to the cool neck as her hands clawed into the back of Carmilla’s black t-shirt. The vampire seemed to notice Laura’s sudden panic, and tightened her grip with one hand, using the other to gently stroke the honey brown hair hiding Laura’s face from view.

 

“Hey, Laura, you’re okay,” she whispered, but Laura refused to move or to acknowledge anything but the safety of Carmilla’s body. It was dark with her eyes closed and her nose pressed against a pulse point that no longer beat. Carmilla’s hair smelled like snow and her shirt in Laura’s fists was worn, and old, and so soft. As long as her eyes were closed, as long as Carmilla was here, everything would be okay.

 

There was another presence then, a warmth against her back, and Laura realized that at some point, her father had stepped forward, placing one of his large, warm hands against her shoulder. She could feel him behind her, and Carmilla in front of her, and for the first time since fleeing the hospital, her breathing steadied. She knew that they would both have questions, that her father was probably sharing a concerned glance with the woman in her arms, but Laura didn’t care. Not now. Not when Carmilla was here and she was home and her dad was so strong and broad and safe.

 

They stood in silence in the hallway as the snow soundlessly fell on the house, blanketing everything just on time for Christmas. And when Laura finally opened her eyes and looked over Carmilla’s shoulder and out the window, she let herself pretend that she didn’t see ashes falling from the heavens, covering everything in filth, and blood, and powdery bones. It was just snow, she thought. Just white, clean, pure snow. White and clean like Perry’s ruined white pupil. Squeezing her eyes shut, Laura hid herself in Carmilla’s shoulder once more. It was safer in the dark.

 

~*~

 

It took Laura less than a minute to pull Carmilla into her bedroom from where she sat on the windowsill. The vampire seemed unnerved by Laura’s eagerness, but happily let herself be stripped down and pushed onto the bed. For her part, Laura just wanted Carmilla and she wanted her badly. If she could lose herself tonight, if she could turn her entire world _Carmilla_ , then maybe Perry’s voice would go away and Perry’s hand would go away and _Perry_ would just go away. So she loomed over her vampire, kissing her soundly, tasting that mouth she had missed so much.

 

“Hey, Laura?” Carmilla tried to say between hot kisses. She pushed gently on Laura’s shoulders and it was infuriating. Laura didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to do anything that required words or thoughts or feelings. She wanted her mouth on Carmilla’s skin and she wanted her name in Carmilla’s mouth. The panicky hysteria she felt in the car was returning, curling around her brain like smoke and she could feel it seeping into every logical thought that was screaming for her to stop, to feel, to cry, to do anything other than what she was about to do.

 

But there was no room for logic here and there was no room for Perry. There was only Carmilla and Laura tossed her own shirt on the floor and tried to kiss the woman below her once more.

 

“Hey!” Carmilla said rather sharply, searching Laura’s face.

 

“Sorry, I just missed you a lot,” Laura answered, hoping it would be enough to silence whatever questions seemed to linger between them. Carmilla frowned momentarily, but with a wicked grin, she popped her fangs and settled back onto the pillows, raising one eyebrow in challenge.

 

Laura groaned, shaking her head at the cheeky vampire and in that moment, she thought that _this_ might work. Because Carmilla’s fangs were glistening in the moonlight and there was so much pale skin and this was all she could ever remember wanting.

 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down Carmilla’s neck, she let her hands stroke downwards, over a protruding ribcage and hipbones that seemed more prominent than usual. Carmilla was thin, too thin, and Laura pondered where her love had been and what she had been doing, but then Perry started screaming again and Laura couldn’t bring herself to stop.

 

She found the soft flesh of Carmilla’s thigh and licked the skin there, sucking it hard in a silent promise of what was to come. Carmilla groaned, reaching for Laura’s hair, tugging gently as if to say, _don’t tease, don’t tease, please, please, please…_

 

Laura raised herself then, wanting to look at Carmilla’s face, wanting to see Carmilla’s want, and she was rewarded for her efforts when the vampire shot her a hazy, blissed out grin. The panther skull necklace around Laura’s neck dangled dangerous low and she watched as the small gold charm lightly hit Carmilla’s clit, eliciting a low grown from the straining woman beneath her.

 

“Don’t tease, Laura,” she said, eyes black as she purposely spread her legs further, offering herself to Laura, who perched on all fours, feeling her mouth water at the sight. With one last smirk, she leaned down, drawing her tongue in agonizingly slow circles against a swollen clit and Carmilla gasped, making Laura smile against her. Carmilla’s left hand curled into Laura’s hair, gently pushing her closer, and with her right she reached down, grasping for Laura’s hand and bringing it up to her breast.

 

Laura sucked down hard, just the way her vampire liked it, and was rewarded with Carmilla’s legs suddenly clamping down on either side of her face. She felt surrounded by Carmilla and she never wanted to leave the wet warmth of her. In that moment, darting her tongue into an impossibly soaked entrance, Laura had never felt more at peace and she momentarily moved her face to kiss the pale thigh that rested against her cheek. The skin was so soft and Carmilla was so beautiful, everything about her was beautiful to Laura, from the damp curls at the apex of her thighs to the sharp fangs gleaming in the low light, to the funny crooked toe on her left foot. _Everything_ was overwhelming and perfect and Laura hoped that forever meant an eternity in that moment. She never wanted to leave, never wanted to stop touching this woman, never wanted to stop tasting her. She tasted so damn good, Laura thought, moving her lips again to an increasingly swollen clit, licking greedily as Carmilla moaned and whispered her name like a sacred, half-remembered prayer in a language only they understood.

 

_You taste so good_ , Laura thought once more, moving her hands beneath Carmilla’s thighs to cup her ass, lifting her closer, impossibly closer, until all Laura knew was Carmilla and all Laura could hear was _Carmilla_ and all Laura could taste was _Carmilla, Carmilla, Carmilla._

 

She was lost in her work, lost until her mind wrapped itself around forever, how badly she wanted this for all time, how much time they had, _they they they_ …

 

Perry had no time. Perry had no love. Perry was broken. Perry couldn’t see, except that she could see everything. And Perry couldn’t feel, except that she could feel everything. And Laura felt her heart pounding and her head spinning and she suddenly pushed herself up on her arms, trying to catch her breath, trying not to _think_ , except it was all she could do, all she could do ever again and…

 

“You taste so good,” she cried in a strangled voice, staring at Carmilla with such longing and such loss that the vampire was momentarily startled, unsure what had just happened. She awkwardly pushed herself up on her elbows, glancing down between her legs for a second before looking up at Laura once more.

 

“Laura?” she said, retracting her fangs as she spoke, and her confusion only made Laura cry harder.

 

“You taste _so_ good and I get to taste your forever and it’s not fair,” Laura was weeping now and Carmilla sat up fully, trying to reach for her, but obviously struggling with how to react to Laura’s sudden hysterics.

 

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, Laura,” she whispered, stroking her fingers through Laura’s messy hair, trying to ground her. But Laura could only shake her head and keep crying, the taste of Carmilla so intoxicating on her tongue that it brought home how wrong everything was.

 

“I saw Perry,” she confessed and Carmilla’s face fell.

 

“I saw Perry and she’s broken and ruined and she’ll never be better, Carm, _never_ ,” Laura cried as Carmilla rubbed her bare arms and tried to inch closer on the small mattress.

 

“Laura…”

 

“I made everything worse. I always make everything worse! But I get you, I get _this_ ,” she said, gesturing to Carmilla and the bed and their two bodies. “And I don’t know how long we have, but we have time, Carm, and Perry has nothing. _Nothing_. And _I_ did that!”

 

“No, _liebling_ , that was my mother,” Carmilla tried to argue, but Laura was not listening, she would not let herself be pulled into Carmilla’s embrace. Instead, she buried her face in her hands and continued weeping.

 

“I messed up, I always mess up,” she moaned, her words muffled by her palms.

 

Carmilla gently wrapped her fingers around Laura’s wrists, trying to see her face.

 

“Laura, look at me,” she said and Laura slowly looked up, seeing Carmilla’s worried face through tear glazed eyes. For a moment they sat staring at each other, as Carmilla tucked Laura’s hair behind her ears, running her thumbs over her cheeks in a failed attempt to dry some tears.

 

“Do not put this on your shoulders,” she whispered, “you can’t save everyone, Laura. No one can.”

 

“I didn’t save _anyone_ ,” the words came out more harshly than she intended, but it was what Laura believed deep in her heart. And with the confession lingering between them like an icy shard, Laura finally allowed herself to be pulled into the vampire’s arms. Carmilla rocked her softly and Laura wished she had removed her jeans, wanting desperately to feel Carmilla’s skin everywhere.

 

“That’s not true,” Carmilla was saying, “you saved me, _liebling_. Every day, you save me.”

 

Laura stayed quiet, unable to say anything after her outburst, but she felt so unstable, so on the edge, that her fingers sharply pulled against Carmilla’s arms and the vampire only held her tighter, rocking back and forth.

 

“Lie down with me,” Carmilla said softly, helping Laura with her jeans and panties. Still shaking, Laura obeyed, finding herself next to Carmilla, naked and so open. She wished her hands would stop trembling, she wished she could breathe steadily, she wished that this haunting would finally come to an end.

 

Carmilla leaned over to kiss her gently and it was so exquisitely soft that Laura eyes fill with tears once more.

 

“Sorry,” she said when Carmilla pulled away. “You didn’t finish and….”

 

“It’s okay, Cupcake.”

 

Laura nodded once and then turned onto her back, letting herself feel comforted by the dark and the feel of Carmilla’s breasts pressing against her arm. The panther-skull necklace had been warmed by her skin and it felt nice resting between her breasts, as if Carmilla’s lips were permanently pressed against her sternum.

 

“Do you want to sleep now?” Carmilla asked softly, but Laura shook her head, turning to look at the woman next to her.

 

“I don’t know what I want, I just…my head is so loud, I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to…”

 

The vampire turned on her side, propping up her head on her hand to look down at Laura. She pressed a kiss to Laura’s forehead, her cheek, and then her lips, with such delicacy that it left Laura breathless.

 

“Let me help you,” Carmilla whispered, pressing another kiss to Laura’s shoulder before resting her hand on Laura’s stomach. Laura waited for that hand to move down, for Carmilla to touch her, but nothing happened and after a moment, she gazed up at Carmilla, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 

“Touch yourself.”

 

“What?” Laura asked, somewhat startled.

 

“Touch yourself,” Carmilla repeated, smiling as Laura felt herself blush. With her eyes firmly on Carmilla’s hand where it sat on her belly, Laura reached down, hesitantly running her fingers between her legs. She was still wet from earlier, and this made her feel vulnerable, so vulnerable that it scared her just a little. But Carmilla’s thumb was gently stroking her skin and Carmilla’s lips were tracing her collarbone and her shoulder and just above her breast. And it felt nice, to be here, with Carmilla, in the quiet.

 

“Tell me what you feel,” Carmilla’s voice was husky and Laura swallowed hard, sighing softly as she rubbed her clit with two fingers making slow, firm circles.

 

“I feel good,” Laura breathed, cupping her left breast with her free hand. Carmilla leaned down, sucking the right nipple and Laura gasped at the feel of her wet, hot mouth. She increased her pace, sliding one finger down to dip inside, only to bring the now-wet finger up to her swollen clit.

 

“More,” Carmilla insisted, and the catch in her voice made Laura moan.

 

“I…I’m wet,” she managed to say and Carmilla closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

 

“What are you thinking about,” the vampire teased and Laura could barely speak as she relentlessly circled her clit.

 

“You…always…you”

 

Carmilla growled then, visibly pressing her thighs together and Laura’s free hand reached for a pale hip, squeezing in time with her fingers.

 

“Carm…”

 

“Yes, _liebling_?”

 

“Carm…I want…I want to watch you too.”

 

Carmilla only paused for a moment, before lifting one leg and folding it at the knee. She stayed on her side, but Laura watched, mouth open in a silent gasp as Carmilla’s fingers disappeared into visibly shining folds. The vampire moaned and Laura could not stop watching the swirl of her pale hand. She spread her legs, letting one fall over Carmilla’s, and they were suddenly lying half on top of each other, Carmilla’s hips thrusting gently, bumping into Laura’s. Carmilla wedged her left arm behind Laura’s shoulders, pulling her tightly against a pale chest and Laura dragged her hand from Carmilla’s hip down to just below her navel, pushing her thumb against dark curls and feeling each motion of Carmilla’s hand as it moved against a throbbing clit.

 

Laura could feel herself close, her thighs glistened in the moon light and the sight of Carmilla spread open and panting made her increase her own motion, pressing hard, harder than Carmilla ever would.

 

“Are you close?” Carmilla voice was in her ear and Laura nodded against the cold nose suddenly pressed into her cheek.

 

“Are you thinking of me?”

 

Laura could only nod again, thrusting her hips up as she hit a particularly sensitive spot. Carmilla bucked then, and Laura knew the vampire was nearly ready. She suddenly desperately wanted to see Carmilla unravel and she reached down, replacing the vampire’s fingers with her own. Carmilla felt so swollen, Laura could see how swollen she was, and it made her wonderfully dizzy.

 

With a hand now free, Carmilla slipped two fingers inside herself, coating them thoroughly, before reaching up and brushing them against Laura’s lips. Laura greedily opened her mouth, sucking on the offering, groaning at that taste again and Carmilla jerked harshly, rolling just enough to press herself against Laura’s thigh. It made moving somewhat difficult, but Laura continued stroking Carmilla’s clit, intoxicated by the feel of the vampire pressing her soaked warmth against her leg.

 

Carmilla dragged her damp fingers from Laura’s mouth and pulled them down, leaving a wet trail until she reached between Laura’s legs, where Laura’s own hand was rapidly circling her clit.

 

“I want to feel it,” the vampire said, thrusting against Laura’s hand and thigh. Carmilla slipped one finger inside Laura, holding it there, and Laura clenched around her, moaning softly as Carmilla kissed her in a messy press of lips against lips.

 

Carmilla was the first to let go. She jerked upwards suddenly, holding herself on one arm as her eyes snapped shut and her jaw dropped. Laura could feel her release against her leg and the sudden rush of heat and silk sent her spinning. She arched her back, her arms burning with effort and then Carmilla curled the finger buried inside her and Laura was gone.

 

Carmilla’s mouth was against hers, her body splayed on top of her own and Laura felt heavy and satisfied. The vampire removed her finger so gently, bringing it up to her own lips and sucking hard. Laura found herself smiling and then yawning, much to her embarrassment, but Carmilla only laughed and reached for the displaced sheets, carefully tucking them around Laura’s body.

 

“Sleepy now?” she drawled and Laura nodded, rolling over and curling her body against Carmilla’s.

 

“Will you still be here in the morning?” she asked and Carmilla pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

 

“Until the New Year,” she promised and Laura could hear the smile in her voice. “Can’t let anyone else kiss my maiden fair, now can I?”

 

Laura didn’t say anything, instead she closed her eyes and buried her face in Carmilla’s throat. She waited for Carmilla’s body to go still, a sure sign she was sleeping. It was unnerving sometimes, the lack of heartbeat, but Laura was used to it and once she was sure that her vampire was unconscious she lifted her head to look down at the sleeping woman.

 

_Until the New Year_.

 

It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Carmilla would kiss her at midnight and leave her bed cold the next morning. It was exhausting and crushing and it made her feel painfully empty. Lying there in Carmilla’s arms, Laura could already feel the encroaching loneliness, its frozen fingers tangling around her heart and her lungs. Carmilla would leave, she would always leave, and Laura would be left alone once more.

 

And she was so very tired of being alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, thanks for staying with me!
> 
> Shout out to my Duct Tape Squad.
> 
> Could you all do me a favour? If you like what you're reading (or if you don't like what you're reading), could you leave a comment here? Now that tumblr has done away with comments, the only way I know whether I'm doing an okay job is if you leave me a comment here or reblog on tumblr with tags (or both! It'll be like fanfic Christmas!). Thanks for your understanding. I read every single comment and every single tag and I appreciate them more than you'll ever know.
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr: @wrackwonder


	6. Chapter 6

Laura had forgotten how desolate the winters could be. At Silas, everything was freshly fallen snow and German Christmas markets and hot chocolate with friends. It was always warm, warm laughs and warm hearts and warm hands to shield from the chill just outside their windows. But now everything was frozen and Laura wondered if it was the temperature or something inside that had permanently broken when she awoke alone on New Year’s Day.

 

The campus was an ice rink and while the dorms were comfortably heated in the winter, Laura’s bed was always cold. Too cold. Nothing she did could warm it. She piled extra blankets on top of the duvet and wore as many layers as she could fit onto her body, but still, each night, she shivered and curled into herself, trying desperately to find the warmth that Carmilla snatched in the night and never returned.

 

The emptiness surrounded her, it permeated her every waking moment so that it often felt like she lived in the centre of some invisible stronghold, blocking her from everyone and everything around her. She stopped trying to make friends, she stopped trying to do much of anything besides survive each day, finish her homework, and make it back to her bed for another night filled with Carmilla’s screams and Danny’s ashes and LaF’s gurgling death rattle.

 

Laura’s loneliness defined her. She radiated loneliness. It was a constant throb in her chest, in her guts, in her brain. There were days where she wondered if Perry was the luckiest of them all, protected and safe in the mental fortress of her mind. Sometimes it felt as if it had all been a dream, that Carmilla’s shoulders under her hands had never existed, that the vampire’s voice, dark and cool and intoxicating had been a trick of the wind or of her memory. Only the necklace around her neck and the picture on her wall provided evidence that Carmilla was real and had been present and maybe, in some small impossible way, had been hers.

 

Still, each night, Laura twisted herself into the blankets on her bed and turned towards the wall where Carmilla’s image seemed to taunt her in the dying light. She traced her fingers over pale shoulders and breasts, over and over again, until the night cast inky shadows over her bed and walls and Laura could no longer see the movement of her own hand. No matter how long she kept her eyes open, no matter how long she kept her hand pressed to the wall, the night swallowed Carmilla and Laura was left alone once more.

 

~*~

 

February brought more snow and the campus became a comedy of falling bodies and bruised backsides. Laura walked slowly most days, keeping her head low as she wandered from her class to the dorms. She didn’t want to be seen, she didn’t want to talk to anyone, she just wanted to work and sleep. It was hard to remember a time before this winter, when the world was bright and LaF’s hair was so red and Danny’s jacket smelled like leather and sunshine. It was hard to remember a time when Carmilla shared her room and her pillow and, eventually, her body. It was hard to remember anything at all.

 

On one particularly cold night as Laura made her way home from the library, an icy patch of sidewalk hidden beneath newly fallen snow, caught her by surprise outside of the dorm. She felt herself slipping, but before she could reach out to break her fall, the books in her arms scattered on the ground and she toppled backwards, landing hard on her back. She knew her ankle was broken without having to look. The pain made her cry out and she could feel it twisted, angled in a way that told of broken bones and snapped tendons. But instead of calling for help, instead of trying to stand, she just lay there, propped up on her elbows, looking down at the grotesquely damaged foot, the black boot a stark contrast to the clean snow.

 

It hurt. It hurt a lot. But she gritted her teeth and folded her mittened hands into fists as she waited and watched and willed her ankle to do something. Heal. Stay broken. She didn’t know what she wanted more. And then she _felt_ her bones start fusing together, muscle and blood vessels and veins all fixing themselves with some invisible sorcery, hidden by her jeans and her skin and the night sky. She watched as the foot righted itself, as the pain dulled, as she was left sitting on the icy sidewalk with a perfectly healthy ankle and an increasingly frozen backside. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she made no move to brush it away. Instead she lay back down, ignoring the ice and the cold and the sting of freezing water on her face. A shooting star soared high above her. She wished for nothing.

 

~*~

 

The water in the shower was hot, maybe too hot, and Laura found herself paralyzed with one hand resting on the tap, while the other limply held a bar of soap. She knew she could easily burn herself, it would take one more turn of the tap, and yet…

 

And yet…

 

Would it matter at all? It would hurt, certainly, but would it _matter_? She pictured her skin blistering and melting, just like Danny’s had, just like Kirsch, but unlike her friends, her skin would come back. Pink and healthy and looking for all the world like she had never experienced any pain at all. As the tears started to pour down her cheeks under the warm stream, Laura realized that she wanted the world to know. She wanted people to see every invisible scar on her body. She wanted children to look at her and ask their parents what had happened to that girl? Why did she look like _that_? She suddenly hated her thick hair and her shining eyes and the healthy blush that never left her cheeks. She _hated_ her new hand and her healed ankle and the love bites that disappeared almost as soon as Carmilla left them on her hipbones.

 

She let herself sob loudly, let herself feel all the pain of her losses and Carmilla, and then she realized that her hand was still on the tap, still dangerously close to turning the water scalding, and she backed away on the wet tiles with a sharp gasp. Reaching blindly for her towel, Laura didn’t even bother to turn off the water, instead she half ran, half slipped out of the shared-dorm bathroom, trying to distance herself from the steam and the pain she had momentarily wanted.

 

Lindsay was already asleep by the time Laura slipped into the room and she was grateful. Her roommate was likely tired of her silence and her swollen eyes. Still, as she turned over in bed and rested her fingers against Carmilla’s picture, a part of her wished Lindsay was awake. The quiet seemed so loud in her ears and the darkness closed in on her, pressed down, and made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. She wanted her hands to stop shaking and her lungs to stop shaking and _everything_ to just…stop.

 

Laura curled herself into a ball, trying desperately to force oxygen into her lungs, but it was of no use. Her body fought against all her attempts to calm down. Everything was so loud, the night was so loud, and Lindsay’s soft snores were so loud, and Laura couldn’t see anything, not her hand or her Carmilla or her future. She couldn’t see and she couldn’t breathe and…

 

Her hand smacked something hard beneath her pillow and it was only when she closed her fingers around the square object that she remembered tossing her phone haphazardly on the bed before leaving for the shower. It felt like her anchor now, more than the necklace she never removed, or the worn photograph beside her bed. She willed her fingers to stop shaking for a moment as she flipped through her contacts. It took an agonizingly long moment for the call to go through and Laura thought she was going to pass out as each ringtone echoed through the chaotic cacophony of her brain. Finally, a sleepy voice cut through her panic, instantly making her feel like there was a chance she’d make it through this night.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Dad,” she said and even she could hear the agony in her own voice.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” his voice was sleepy and confused, but she heard shuffling and could picture him pushing himself up in the night and flipping on the bedside table.

 

“Dad,” she whispered again, wishing more than anything that she could be home, beside him, snuggled up in his plaid sheets with a bowl of popcorn and his strong shoulder beneath her cheek.

 

“Bad dream, Little One?”

 

“Yah…”

 

“Okay, you ready?”

 

Laura nodded even though he could not see, but somehow she knew that he could sense it. That he would know. And sure enough, seconds later, his familiar voice came through soft and strong, a protective lullaby for his beloved girl.

 

“On the day you were born, your mother woke up laughing…”

~*~

 

Laura constantly fought the urge to quit school and move back home. It would be easy, _too_ easy, but she was determined to finish her degree. Silas had taken so much from her, but she would not let it take her future, at least not all of it. Which is how she found herself sitting in the library on a freezing February day, surrounded by stacks of books, trying to write a rather long, boring essay on Mary Wollstonecraft. She refused to let herself think about Carmilla, refused to ponder whether the vampire had ever crossed paths with Wollstonecraft, refused to imagine Carmilla’s small hands wrapped around a leather-bound copy of _Vindication of the Rights of Women_ , refused to imagine her dark, expressive eyes, widening and that smirk appearing as each word spoke to beliefs she had held since before her murder.

 

The library was busy with students trying to finish final projects before Reading Week, but Laura kept her head low and mostly managed to ignore the din of humanity surrounding her. It wasn’t easy, however, especially when a particularly noisy student sitting opposite her started chatting animatedly to anyone within hearing range.

 

“Holy shit, have you guys seen this?”

 

Laura rolled her eyes and sunk deeper into her chair. There seemed to be a sudden flurry of activity as a few frat boys she recognized from the fall party gathered around a laptop screen.

 

“What the hell?”

 

“Is that a…”

 

“It’s like a panther or something…”

 

“Where the fuck is Syria?”

 

Her ears perked up at this, but she remained at her seat, trying not to let the worried little voice in the back of her mind disturb her concentration.

 

“Wait, wait, click the video!” someone was saying and Laura tensed already feeling the headache gathering behind her eyes. The quiet library was suddenly filled with the sound of familiar growls and the frat boys laughed.

 

“That would make a sweet carpet, hey?”

 

“Dude, they’re, like, endangered or something…”

 

“I know, but that one looks mean…”

 

Laura had heard enough. She jammed her ear buds into her ears and quickly performed a Google search that ten minutes before would have seemed ridiculous. And there, on the front page of Buzzfeed, was all the evidence she needed that her missing girlfriend was doing a fairly poor job of keeping her whereabouts unknown. Laura watched with increasing dread as the amateur video showed a big black cat prowling a gothic cemetery somewhere in Austria. While the website quickly explained that a panther had appeared in the middle of the night and was proving to be a formidable threat to the villagers, Laura could only shake her head and reach for her phone.

 

_Where are you?_

 

It would be another seven hours before Laura heard back. She was already asleep when the obnoxious buzzing tore her from an uncomfortable dream. The text message was short and to the point, but it sent her mind reeling.

 

_C: Styria_

 

Laura pushed herself up in bed, rubbing her eyes and reaching for the lamp. Before she could flick the switch, however, the phone buzzed again.

 

_C: Come get me_

 

~*~

It was surprisingly easy convincing her father that a last-minute trip to Austria would be a good idea. Laura presented her case with a hastily formed PowerPoint presentation listing the pros and cons of an anniversary trip to visit Carmilla at her fancy European university. For his part, Roger double checked that the budget airlines she chose were reputable and he called the boutique hotel twice, but overall, it went far more smoothly than she expected.

 

The flight was long and uncomfortable, more so because Laura had no idea what she would find when she reached her destination. Carmilla had gone silent after her initial text message and Laura wondered if this whole thing was a mistake, if she should just try to forget, move on, live a life free from the constant waiting and wanting, but…

 

There was no life without Carmilla. At least no life that Laura was interested in living. And so she sat in her economy seat, squished in between a silent business man and a sleeping college student, trying to calm her breathing and tell herself that this, whatever _this_ was, would turn out okay. Somehow, it would be okay. Because she wasn’t sure if she could handle yet another disaster. Especially without Carmilla by her side.

 

~*~

 

It had just snowed as Laura left her hotel and made her way to the small, ancient cemetery on the outskirts of the village. Her footsteps crunched in the freshly fallen powder and the air felt still and impossibly cold. The concierge had rolled his eyes when she’d asked about the cemetery, mumbling something that very likely translated into _panther_ , but he’d drawn her a map and sent her on her way. Now, in the solitude of winding medieval streets, Laura found herself walking with increasing haste because Carmilla as nearby. Carmilla who she hadn’t seen in so long. Carmilla who smelled like earth and chocolate and snow. Carmilla who shattered her heart each and every time she left. _Carmilla_.

 

The iron gates of the old kirkyard stood before her suddenly, rising from the pavement like two gnarled hands, reaching for the setting sun. There was no one else around, no film crews or trendy bloggers, and Laura suddenly felt sick. Had she come all of this way for nothing? Had the big black cat departed, frightened by the media coverage or the people or whatever else drove fear into her unbeating heart?

 

Laura placed one mittened hand against the gate and pushed, slipping quietly into the hallowed ground. The gravestones were old and crumbling, but as she walked further into the cemetery, the tombs around her became more elaborate. Cherubs glanced skyward from mouldering corners and ghoulish skulls leered at her, their faces taunting her as she quickly tried to look away. _As we are, so too shall you be_ , they seemed to whisper, and Laura wondered if that was true at all.

 

The inscriptions were in German, but she could make out the dates; old men and babies and mothers lost in childbirth all lay before her. The ground that had once been flat rolled beneath her feet, the legacy of bodies piled beneath the dark earth. She shivered again, the cold wind nipping at her cheeks as the sightless eyes of the statuary followed her movements. She did not know exactly where she was going, only that she had to keep moving, she had to see why Carmilla had come here in the first place, here where the dead did not rise, where they slept in the frozen ground next to worms and lost memories.

 

At the centre of the kirkyard stood something large, Laura could hardly make it out, but as she came closer she found herself slowing down until she stood, incapable of movement, staring at the impossibly elaborate tomb before her. She could clearly read the faded letters on the huge, marble base: V O N K A R N S T E I N. Each corner of the hulking structure was supported by a weeping angel, heads bowed low in a show of abject anguish. But atop that marble square, imposing and terrible, was a winged creature sheathed in black stone. A skull peaked out of a marble hood, its mouth open in an eternal scream, and each hand seemed to reach out, one grasped a scythe while they other lay open, as if the creature had been frozen on its endless crusade, forever trapped atop this tomb in a forgotten corner of Styria. It was an angel, to be sure, the angel of death, fallen from heaven in a furious rage, its wings spread wide with the promise of flight.

 

And in death’s arms lay Carmilla.

 

Laura lurched forward, unsure of what to do, or even what to say, because Carmilla was so horribly still in the outstretched, skeletal arms. The vampire wore only a tattered pair of black jeans and a white tank top, her feet were bare, and Laura could see frost forming on her shoulders and hands.

 

“Carm!” she called, wishing she were taller, or that she had a ladder, or _anything_ , because there was no way she could reach that high.

 

“Carmilla, _please_!” she tried again and this time, the vampire moved her head slightly, looking down from her perch with mild confusion. She lay still, so horribly still, until she raised her left hand and brought a bottle to her lips. It left a red stain that trickled down from her mouth and dropped onto death’s black hand.

 

“You came.” The voice was rough with misuse and slurred and Laura wondered what the hell was in the bottle.

 

“Yah, you texted me and…”

 

“Little fool.”

 

“Carm…”

 

“You will die, you know,” Carmilla never tore her gaze away from the bottle she held and the disinterest in her voice felt like an icy shard suddenly thrust into Laura’s spleen.

 

“Carmilla, please don’t do this,” Laura hated herself for begging, but she was scared, genuinely scared, and Carmilla’s feet looked so cold…

 

“They all die,” the vampire mumbled, spilling the remains of the bottle as she tried to drink from it.

 

“Come down and we can talk, okay?”

 

“No, Laura, I will not leave this place,” Carmilla sighed, resigned, folding both arms over her chest and closing her eyes.

 

“Carm…”

 

“It is my Leopold’s birthday and he is here. So I shall not leave this place,”

 

Laura’s eyes darted around the tomb, suddenly understanding the symbolism. Four angels for four lost souls. And death, which seemed to forever haunt the Von Karnstein family. Looking up once more, she sighed deeply, and tried to speak again.

 

“I’m sorry, Carm. I didn’t know.”

 

The vampire raised a dismissive hand, but never opened her eyes.

 

“Did you come here with Mattie?” Laura knew it was a risk, but she had to try, and sure enough, Carmilla’s eyes opened suddenly and her jaw tightened.

“It’s just, I hate going to the cemetery…I mean, where my mom is…I, I don’t like thinking about her there.” Laura stepped forward, resting one hand on the smallest of the angel statues.

 

“They moved him, he was entombed in our home, but they moved him here. They _touched_ his body,” Carmilla growled, sitting up suddenly and looking down from her stone cradle. Her eyes were bloodshot and Laura could see how she wavered unsteadily.

 

“I do not want him to be alone,” the vampire suddenly confessed, her voice cracking as tears began to cascade down her gaunt cheeks. “I do not want him to be alone as I am alone.”

 

“Oh, Carm,” Laura reached for her then, both hands over her head, but Carmilla would not move.

 

“You are not alone, please, Carm, you’re not.”

 

The vampire wept softly, her bare feet dangling from death’s arms and it was all Laura could do not to climb up after her.

 

“Come with me, you don’t have to stay, but just…for now, come in out of the cold.” She tore off her mitt and stood on her toes, until one hand managed to wrap around Carmilla’s icy, cold food. Her warm palm against the vampire’s frigid skin seemed to work more than her words and a second later, Carmilla blinked, wiped furiously at her cheeks, and jumped from death’s grasp.

 

~*~

 

Laura was starting to wonder why so many of her seminal moments with Carmilla happened in hotel rooms. After dragging the unsteady, barefoot vampire through the quiet village streets, she had walked her past an unimpressed bellhop and quickly shoved her into the hotel room with instructions to take a shower. It gave her a moment to gather her thoughts and go back downstairs to request extra blankets from the small front desk. Carmilla had agreed to come back with her, but Carmilla was also drunk on something and hurting and Laura had no clue how to have _this_ conversation with her soul-mate..missing girlfriend…with her Carmilla.

 

Taking a deep breath before entering their room again, Laura briefly pondered how monumental this moment could be. It could break them. Or it could bring them together. And the pressure of that feeling, the knowledge that her life was about to change, made her right hand shake with tremors. But she was Laura Hollis, stubborn, passionate, slightly naïve Laura Hollis, and she was not going to cower in fear outside her own hotel room.

 

She pushed open the door and tossed her armful of blankets on the floor without looking into the room.

 

“Carm! I brought blankets, we have to keep you warm,” she called, placing the ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign on the door handle before turning around. There were wet footprints on the carpet leading from the bathroom and a damp towel tossed haphazardly on the floor.

 

“Carm?” Laura asked, picking up the towel and searching for the obstinate vampire. What she found instead made her sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of her nose. She could already feel the headache forming as she shook her head and mumbled, “seriously?”

 

A large, black cat lay huddled on the floor next to the bed. It did not move at the sound of her voice, nor did it make any attempt to turn and look at her. Instead, Laura found herself being given the cold shoulder by a massive panther and it did little to calm her nerves.

 

“Carmilla,” Laura said, moving closer. The cat did not move and Laura made the decision then and there that she was not going to let Carmilla do this. She was not going to let her throw everything away, not without a fight. Circling around the silent feline, Laura sat down on the floor cross-legged and shuffled forward until she could reach the panther’s head. She unceremoniously raised it into her lap, which at least elicited a surprised growl, followed by a heavy paw, pushed against her cheek.

 

“Don’t do that!” she scolded, settling with the weight of the cat’s head in her lap. She had never seen Carmilla like this, at least not this close. The panther came out when Carmilla was under attack or when she needed to do the attacking. It was primitive and dangerous and it scared Laura a little bit. But to see her like this? Quiet, curled into herself, unwilling to talk to the point that she could not face Laura in her human form? Something was beyond wrong with Carmilla, something Laura had obviously missed.

 

She gently stroked her fingers through silky black fur, gently rubbing the space between the cat’s ears. Carmilla purred softly, almost in spite of herself, and the giant paw that had been batting Laura’ face settled against her knee instead.

 

“You’ve been a teenager for a long time, hey?” Laura said softly, her fingers never leaving the warm, soft fur. “Your mother kept you that way forever, made you do things you didn’t want to do…”

 

She couldn’t help but remember the first time she saw Carmilla, all of that anger and black eye liner. The thigh highs and the study buddies. It made her wonder about how much of it had been the Dean and how much of it had been Carmilla. Did she even like those leather pants? Did she even want those study buddies?

 

“And then, every twenty years, she pulled you back. No matter what you were doing, no matter what you had built, you were always running out of time, weren’t you?”

 

The cat in her lap mewled pathetically and rubbed its head against Laura’s stomach. Laura wrapped both of her arms awkwardly around the panther and tried to offer comfort. It was strange, holding Carmilla like this, but somehow it was easier to say these things without having to face those dark, haunted eyes.

 

“She’s gone, Carm,” Laura whispered, softly stroking one velvety ear. “She’s never coming back and you don’t have to be a teenager anymore. You can build something, anything you want. You’re free.”

 

The mewling returned and Laura felt her eyes water as the cat tried to curl itself impossibly closer. Carmilla was struggling, desperately struggling, and there was nothing Laura could do, but watch.

 

“You said I was free,” Laura said, voice shaking. She knew she had to say _this_ , she knew it was time, but it didn’t make it any easier. “But…you’re free too, Carm. To do what you want. To go where you want. I know you want to know about the sword and my hand, but I’m here now and even though we don’t know how long I’ll be here, we never really did.”

 

The panther’s ears perked up and Laura pushed forward before she lost her nerve.

 

“You are free, so if you want to keep searching you can, but no one is going to pull you away in twenty years, no one is going to take that away from you. You’re free. To be with me, or…to not…be with me…”

 

It hung between them, thick and uncomfortable, and Laura wished she could swallow it back, grab the idea with both fists and hide it behind her teeth. Except the panther in her lap started shimmering and Laura blinked rapidly, trying to understand the movements, the imperceptible buzz in the air, the hazy blur of darkness, until the cat disappeared and in its place lay Carmilla.

 

Laura gasped at the sight of her because the woman sprawled across her lap was impossibly thin and covered in bruises. Each ridge of her spine stuck out painfully and as she turned over, Laura could count her ribs, the protruding hipbones, sharp elbows and knees, and a jaw that was too pronounced. There were bruises too, so many bruises. Flowering over her sides, beneath her eyes, across the pale expanse of her back. Laura trembled as she held Carmilla in her arms, suddenly feeling very young and very afraid.

 

“Laura,” the vampire’s voice was hoarse and Laura had to help her raise one, thin arm so Carmilla could place a cold hand on her much warmer cheek.

 

“Carm…what happened to you?”

 

“Laura,” Carmilla repeated, her hand dropping, and when she coughed, blood stained her lips and teeth. Laura shifted slightly, trying to adjust the shaking woman in her arms, to provide some kind of comfort despite her obvious pain. Laura awkwardly reached behind her, pulling the blanket from the bed. She tried to wrap it around Carmilla, to cover her nakedness, to protect her from whatever it was that had harmed her so badly. The vampire looked impossibly young like this, swaddled in a fluffy white blanket as she lay in Laura’s arms. Her dark head rested against Laura’s shoulder and it sounded like she was wheezing slightly with each unnecessary breath.

 

“I’m tired,” Carmilla whispered and Laura nodded, pressing her cheek to the cool forehead. “I don’t…I don’t want to fight anymore.”

 

“That’s okay,” Laura said, rocking them both softly.

 

“I want to go home. With you. I want to go home.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“ _Ich bin müde_.” 

 

“Okay.”  

 

“ _Ich liebe ditch_.”  

 

“Okay.”  

 

Carmilla felt so frail in her arms and Laura knew the vampire desperately needed sustenance. Whatever she had been drinking before was obviously bad, but Laura knew so little about vampiric diseases. The woman in her arms seemed to be wasting away, as if her body was rejecting the very thing that kept it alive. With only the slightest hesitation, Laura raised her wrist to Carmilla’s mouth and nudged the chapped lips lightly. 

 

“Drink,” she offered as Carmilla’s eyes fluttered open. They shared an intense, hazy gaze before Carmilla shook her head, and tried to turn her face away.

 

“Carm, you need to get your strength back and it doesn’t matter, I’ll heal…” 

 

Something impossibly dark flashed across Carmilla’s face and her frown deepened. She shook her head again, and Laura was about to call the woman in her arms stubborn and impossible and deserving of whatever pain she was in. But then she noticed the tears in Carmilla’s eyes, the slight shake of her jaw, and Laura lowered her wrist and stroked the hair from the vampire’s forehead.  

 

“ _Nein_ ,” Carmilla stuttered, pressing her cheek into Laura’s palm, “ _nicht du_ , _dich nie_.” 

 

“Okay,” Laura said once more and grew quiet.

  
There was so much to do. She had to arrange a plane ticket for Carmilla and find some blood somewhere and obviously some new clothes for the woman in her arms, but she refused to release her grip on Carmilla, not now, not when she had only just found her. Not when Carmilla’s feet were still so cold.  They didn’t move at all that night. Laura held Carmilla, rocked her, whispered softly to her, and tried to calm her own shaking heart. The heart that had somehow become inextricably linked to Carmilla’s heavy eyelids and Carmilla’s sharp knees and Carmilla’s broken nails and _Carmilla_ , _Carmilla_ , _Carmilla…_  

 

~*~

Their new apartment wasn’t new at all, but it was charming and two blocks off campus and affordable for two college-aged girls on a budget. The yellow linoleum floor in the kitchen was faded and the windows rattled loudly, but Laura loved her little one-bedroom home. They slowly brought in furniture, decorating the walls and the floors and the corners like any other young couple. There were Carmilla’s Klimt prints, and Laura’s DVD collection, and an increasingly large number of books on their IKEA bookshelf. It was home in a way that nothing had been home in so long and Laura cherished its creaky floors, and the soft, expensive sheets Carmilla had insisted upon, and how her dad would come over on weekends and fix their refrigerator or hang their pictures or assemble a bedframe.

 

It took a month for Carmilla to gain her strength back and another two for Laura to stop falling into an anxiety spiral every time she awoke alone. Laura returned to school and threw herself almost gleefully into classes, finally enjoying the educational experience she had so longed for. Carmilla found a job at a second-hand bookstore where she spent her days arguing with the shop’s owner, a middle-aged eccentric named Larry, who was never far from his pipe or his cat, Bartholomew. The only people they loathed more than each other were their customers, and Laura suspected that Carmilla secretly loved Larry, in her strange, cynical, way.

 

They fell into a domestic rhythm, a rhythm so comfortable and so welcome that Laura allowed herself to believe that she could be happy, that this could be her forever. Each time a paper cut healed too quickly or a scar disappeared, she cared less and less because Carmilla was there, right beside her, laughing, or sulking, or silently reading in their overstuffed armchair. Their happiness became intertwined, a living, breathing organism all on its own and its promise was intoxicating. Laura clung to it greedily, she celebrated it, she let it lull her and soothe her and make her feel that her life had purpose and meaning. It made her feel as though the ashes in her mouth were disintegrating, as if the blood on her toes would wash itself away. It made her feel light and free, so that her face often hurt from smiling. It was a hurt that would not heal. Nor did she want it to.

 

~*~

 

She woke up alone one Sunday morning, but it rarely worried her anymore. Carmilla was likely gone to acquire more soymilk from her source, which meant Laura had an hour or two on her own. She rose naked from the bed, stretching and grinning at the memories from the night before. She shook her head, chuckling out loud as she reached into the closet for something to throw on. There was an old red and blue hockey jersey in the corner and tossing it over her head, she made her way to the kitchen. She had all the time in the world and Carmilla would be home soon.

 

Leaning against the counter, Laura pondered why cooking had to be so damn difficult. She scrolled through the page on her phone, furrowing her brow at the seemingly scientific instructions for creating breakfast food. She was in the middle of grumbling about egg whites when the door to the apartment swung open.

 

“In here, Carm!” she called, never removing her eyes from the phone. Egg whites, what kind of flour? Was that vegan?

 

“Hey, cutie,” came the sleepy response, but Laura was too busy with her recipe to notice Carmilla walk into the kitchen, nor was she aware of the sudden silence coming from the vampire standing in the doorway.

 

“Where did you get that?”

 

Looking down briefly at the blue and red hockey jersey she had tossed on moment before, Laura shrugged, distractedly pondering the merits of coconut oil.

 

“I think from my dad, or something, I don’t…”

 

“Who said you could wear it?”

 

There was something dangerous in Carmilla’s voice, something that made Laura set her phone down and lift her head.

 

“So, there’s this thing called feminism,” she laughed, about to turn around when suddenly, Carmilla’s body was _there_ , hard against her back. There was a slight cool breeze as she felt Carmilla raise the hem of the jersey over her ass and then, after a few seconds of squirming from behind and the distinct sound of a torn zipper, something decidedly _not_ cool was pressed against her flushed skin.

 

“Carm, what…”

 

“You think you can just wear _that_ ,” Carmilla sounded breathless in her ear and Laura could feel each and every grind of the other woman’s body. Despite her position, it made Laura feel powerful, it made her feel in control. Knowing that her body was enough to drive the vampire to _this_? Laura grew wet at the very idea.

 

“What are you going to do about it, Karnstein?”

 

Carmilla’s movements were rapid. Suddenly Laura was bent over the counter, her cheek against the tile, as both of Carmilla’s hand wrapped around her hips. She could feel how wet Carmilla was becoming and imagining the glistening evidence against her own skin was enough to make her moan. Never one to release control easily, however, Laura thrust backwards, and was rewarded with a growl from behind her.

 

“Like that?”

 

“Stop talking,” Carmilla reached forward with one hand, forcefully holding Laura’s head against the counter. It made Laura smile and she continued to push backwards until Carmilla’s free hand cupped between Laura’s legs.

 

“Carmilla…”

 

“Stop. Talking.”

 

Laura was surprisingly ready, the feel of Carmilla against her, the suddenness of the exchange, had left her excited and wanting. She spread her legs and blindly reached for Carmilla’s hip with her right hand, hoping to encourage the vampire to move faster, to take her hard. And reading her mind, Carmilla’s fingers found her clit and pinched roughly. Laura jolted against the shelves, banging her knees against a cupboard, but she didn’t care, not when Carmilla was dripping against her ass and Carmilla’s fingers were swirling through her heat. Laura squeezed the shapely hip in her hand again, a silent consent, a silent request, and once more, Carmilla understood.

 

They both cried out as Carmilla entered her and then again with the first thrust. Laura balled her left hand into a fist, resting it against the countertop and pushing back against Carmilla’s hand. She could hear herself panting, she could _hear_ Carmilla’s fingers, and the feel of the vampire’s knuckles against her entrance made her weak in the knees.

 

“So warm,” Carmilla moaned, increasing her movement, and the hand previously holding down Laura’s head moved to clutch the hockey jersey bunched around her rib cage. They were frenzied, Carmilla thrusting her own hips against Laura and her fingeres _inside_ Laura, while Laura tried to stay upright, tried not to scream in pleasure and alert the neighbours. Her ass was coated in Carmilla, it made her mouth water, it made her want to turn around and bury her face between the vampire’s legs, but Carmilla was too strong, her body held her so tightly against the counter, that she could barely breathe.

 

“Carm…please…” Laura cried out, unsure what she was asking for, but Carmilla knew, and seconds later, nimble fingers stroked Laura’s clit, causing her to lurch forward once more. Each rub was accompanied by a deep, long thrust, and this time, Laura knew the only thing keeping her standing was Carmilla’s body against hers.

 

“Cum,” the vampire growled, pushing hard inside Laura, “now.”

 

A part of her was embarrassed at the power Carmilla held over her, over how easily she obeyed the vampire’s wishes. But as her orgasm raged, as her body flushed and twisted, Laura could only feel joy and love and want, so much want for the woman still panting against her. She cried out for Carmilla and squeezed the fingers buried so snugly inside her, wishing as she always did that they would never leave. She was left gasping for air against the countertop, blinking rapidly, trying to remember her own name, when she suddenly realized that Carmilla was still grinding against her in increasing desperation. This time, however, she wanted the upper hand.

 

She pushed herself up, tearing the hockey jersey from her body and spinning in Carmilla’s arms. The scene would almost be comical if Carmilla didn’t look so anguished. With her tight black jeans pooled around her ankles and her faded t-shirt still in place, the vampire looked like she had been literally caught with her pants down. Except…

 

Laura’s mouth watered at the sight of her vampire so wet and so pink and so… _swollen_. Carmilla’s thigh glistened and the dark hair between her legs was soaked through and before she could think about the fact that they were not anywhere close to a soft bed, Laura pushed Carmilla down onto the hard kitchen floor and proceeded to strip her.

 

She ignored Carmilla’s _oomph_ as the back of her head hit the linoleum and instead climbed on top of the pale body, adjusting herself until she could press down and…

 

“ _Oh, God_!” Carmilla arched violently as their clits slid against each other and Laura leaned down, pressing hot kisses against the vampire’s sternum. The small, pale breasts tasted so good against Laura’s tongue and Carmilla’s repeated cries spurred Laura forward. She could not stop thrusting, she never wanted to stop, especially as Carmilla suddenly looked down, watching in awe as their bodies slid against each other.

 

Laura wanted more, however, and as she caught sight of her purse resting against the kitchen table, she reached out blindly, spilling the contents of the bag around them. She made a hasty grab as she continued her movements, finding the objects she needed within hands reach.

 

“Laura?” Carmilla asked, her fingers sharp against Laura’s shoulders.

 

“Sample sale,” was all Laura answered, before snapping open a bottle of lube. She coated herself first and then spread copious amounts of the clear liquid on Carmilla. The sight of it nearly made Laura cum again, but she was determined to make Carmilla finish first, and thrusting down once more, she was rewarded by slippery heat and a scream of pleasure from her girlfriend. There was one more thing to do, however, and dropping the lube, Laura turned on the small object in her hand.

 

The soft _buzz_ made Carmilla’s head snap up and she watched, mouth open, as Laura carefully placed the vibrator between them. Carmilla was sensitive, so Laura wedged the device gently against her clit and then pushed down, feeling the vibrations against her own body. She moved wildly against the body beneath her and Carmilla tilted her head back so sharply that all Laura could see was a perfect chin and sharp fangs protruding from a gasping mouth.

 

Laura steadied herself on Carmilla’s hips, trusting again and again against the vampire’s body. She could feel herself clenching, she could feel how soaked they both were, and suddenly Carmilla brought both fists down hard against the floor, denting the linoleum.

 

“Laura!” she cried out raggedly, her legs spread so wide that all Laura could feel was heat and wet and…

 

“Laura!” she screamed again and with one final arch of her body, Carmilla let go. Laura felt Carmilla’s release _gush_. It was messy and wanton and soaking wet and so warm and the surprise of it was enough to make Laura cum, as she clawed at Carmilla’s hips and pushed down hard, squeezing her eyes shut as the world went dark. When she opened them again, Carmilla was sprawled beneath her, silent and unmoving, and Laura quickly reached between them for the vibrator and turned it off.

 

A puddle had formed between Carmilla’s legs and they were both coated in _Carmilla_. Her thighs, the trimmed hair between her legs, Laura looked down in wonder and couldn’t keep the grin from her face.

 

When Carmilla groaned a second later, Laura climbed off her body and lay down beside her, unable to hide her glee.

 

“Oh god, did I…”

 

“Totally.”

 

Carmilla covered her face with both hands and Laura laughed, playfully pulling at Carmilla’s wrists so she could kiss her properly.

 

“I really want to taste you right now,” Laura said, but Carmilla quickly grabbed her around the middle and held her close, shaking her head.

 

“You’ll break me if you try, Cupcake.” She drawled, her previous embarrassment replaced by a lazy smile.

 

“Is that the first time you’ve…”

 

“No. I mean, it’s been nearly three-hundred years, but, sorry sweetheart,” Carmilla said, pressing a kiss to Laura’s forehead.

 

“Three-hundred years? Heck, I’ll take it!” Laura settled against Carmilla’s shoulder, shivering slightly as their sweaty bodies cooled.

 

“Who was she?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“The last one to make you do _that_ ,” Laura poked Carmilla’s side.

 

“Julie d’Aubigny,” Carmilla answered somewhat wistfully, “she was much older than me at the time, but she was an opera singer, the tongue, you know?”

 

“I see your tongue and raise you a free vibrator I got at the mall, _Julie_!” Laura exclaimed and Carmilla barked in laughter, rolling to hug Laura even closer. They lay next to each other for a time, not caring that they were sprawled on the kitchen floor, until Carmilla looked over Laura’s shoulder at the empty countertop.

 

“What were you doing in here, anyway?”

 

“I was going to make pancakes, “ Laura sighed, frowning deeply.

 

“Pancakes are lame. Get dressed, I’m taking you for brunch.”

 

“Shower first?” Laura questioned, prying herself away from Carmilla’s arms and standing. She looked down at the vampire, naked and sticky and so impossibly beautiful.

 

“Shower first,” Carmilla agreed, gazing up at Laura with quiet affection.

 

“Then clean the floor?”

 

“Then clean the floor.”

 

“Hey,” Laura whispered, reaching out with one hand. Carmilla grasped it firmly, but lay still, seemingly happy to just look at Laura.

 

“Hey,” she answered back. With a soft tug, Laura was suddenly on top of Carmilla once more, cradled against her body.

 

“Will you wear that shirt again sometime?” Carmilla asked so quietly that Laura almost thought she’d imagined it. With a gentle kiss to the corner of Carmilla’s mouth, Laura happily rested against the woman beneath her.

 

“Whenever you want, Carm. Whenever you want.”

 

~*~

 

The change in Carmilla was so subtle that at first, Laura barely noticed. There were the late nights, but Carmilla always kept strange hours. Then there was the growing fixation on her laptop and the ever-increasing pile of notebooks on their kitchen table. It wasn't until Laura came home early from class to find Carmilla unmoved, still perched at the kitchen table from the night before that she knew something was off.

  
“Aren't you supposed to be at work?” Laura asked as she gingerly lowered her backpack to the linoleum floor. Carmilla shrugged, never tearing her eyes from the laptop screen.  


“I quit,” she mumbled distractedly.

  
“Wait, what?”

 

Carmilla loved that job. She loved arguing with Larry and spending her days reading and sneering at customers. In response, Carmilla shrugged again and her apathy made Laura’s blood run cold. Laura clenched her fist once before turning away and Carmilla made no move to stop her. It seemed as though the vampire had barely noticed her presence at all.   
  
It took Laura three hours to work up the courage she needed. Carmilla was still seated at the kitchen table, bare legs crossed beneath her as she made scribbles in a notebook.

  
“You're leaving again.”

 

It was a statement, not a question, and the tone was enough to make Carmilla look up. Her eyes were sympathetic, but she nodded almost imperceptibly.

  
“There's a lead in St. Petersburg. Laura, I have t...”

  
“No, actually, you don't,” Laura barked, folding her arms across her chest in a weak attempt to protect herself.

  
“I'll only be gone for two weeks, I swear, Laura...”

  
But Laura couldn't hear it. Not tonight. And with a mumbled whatever,” she turned and left the vampire alone in the dark.

 

~*~  
  
They lived in uncomfortable silence for a week. It was only on a Saturday, when Laura's cramps made her needy and Carmilla's exhaustion made her crave an afternoon nap that they found each other awkwardly snuggled in bed. There was something mindless on Netflix as Laura cradled a hot water bottle and ploughed through a bag of cookies.  Carmilla was curled next to her, only their knees touched under the blankets and for a time, they rested in companionable silence.

 

When Carmilla turned to her bedside table and started rummaging in the drawer, Laura thought nothing of it. At least not until something shiny and dark invaded her field of vision. It was a gold ring, old and stained with time. Intricate, dark carvings, decorated each side, and a polished black stone sat boldly on its bridge, glistening in the pale, morning light. Carmilla dropped it into Laura’s palm and folded her own hand on top, until they both held the ring in a joined fist.

 

“Not because I’m going,” Carmilla said, turning to look at Laura, “but because I’m coming back.”

 

Her eyes were so open and honest that Laura felt the tiniest glimmer of hope painfully invade her chest. It was a dangerous feeling, she wanted to fight it so badly, but sitting next to Carmilla, hearing Carmilla’s voice, feeling Carmilla cool palm resting against her knuckles, she knew, without any doubt, that she wanted this life. She wanted it. And she let the hope grow and release inside of her until she felt dizzy with it. Uncurling her palm, Laura slipped the ring onto her finger and they both stared at it in quiet reverence for the briefest moment. And then Laura leaned her head against Carmilla’s shoulder and the vampire wrapped one arm around Laura’s back, and Laura tried to pretend that her hand didn’t suddenly feel heavy. As if the ring didn’t feel like an anchor. As if the hope swirling in her chest didn’t churn her stomach.

 

She clung to her happiness and Carmilla clung to her.

 

~*~

 

Carmilla left on a Thursday. She took only a small duffle bag and Laura tried not to notice the sudden emptiness in their shared closet. The vampire lurked in the doorway, a strange, excited smile on her face as Laura stood across from her, wrapped in a _Superman_ bathrobe and holding a cooling cup of coffee in one hand.

 

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” Carmilla promised, leaning forward to press a light kiss to Laura’s lips. Laura kissed her back, trying desperately to quiet the growing hysteria in her throat. She watched as Carmilla shouldered her bag and swung out the door. She watched as Carmilla made her was down the hall. She watched as Carmilla turned before jogging down the stairs and with a roguish grin called, “See you soon, Creampuff!” She watched as Carmilla disappeared from her life once more.

 

She stood in the silence, letting it press against her face and her chest, letting it wrap itself around her like cold, comfortless arms. With one final glance at the empty hallway, Laura closed the door.

 

And tried to ignore the sudden tingling in her right hand.

 

~*~

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks, the end of The End of All Things. Thank you so much for your support and your kind words. And, as always, thank you to my Duct Tape Squad.
> 
> Do me a favour? If you liked this? Please leave a comment. It has been an especially heartbreaking week for me and I could use the positivity (or...negativity? If you hate it? I hope you don't!). 
> 
> Come tell me what you think on tumblr: @wrackwonder


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